Whom By the Fire
by animefreak114
Summary: Set after the events of the abomination vault and just centuries before the events of Darksiders. Once again the precarious balance is threatened. Death is charged by the council to chase down a rouge mage whose origins have been hidden from the histories of creation for eons. But for what purpose? And what is this 'Shadow' that has silently slipped into the Third Kingdom? REVISED!
1. Penumbra

**AN: The lore of this game has really inspired my creativity and when I first went of FF I was quite disappointed to see the lack of fiction for this game. But hell what I've read so far seems pretty good if only some would UPDATE more frequently. Short attention span…Yeah I'm guilty of it too sadly..**

**I do not own Darksiders I or II or the other references to different stories in this fic. Only some of my OC's **

*****Fair warning hard packed action is nearly non-existent in this first chapter but it has all the components for setting up the plot of the story. Chances are if you skip over this chap you might miss some key plot elements in future chapters to come…**

_How humanity ever confused heaven to be the closest kingdom to the creator was a mystery, as were such earthly tales concerning the creator and the many worlds beyond their own. Yet the grandeur of the White City almost seemed to live up to such a summation. Buildings that dared to pierce the skies stood tall and grand in their lavish architecture. Cities upon cities and even the other isles surrounding the areas seemed to be a civilization unto themselves. Structures and structures all encased in white and citizens young and old sporting wings both big and small. _

_But even the brightest of cities can sport the darkest of shadows. And that would certainly explain how a wingless child of man in a garb of stark black with raven hair nearly as long as her body could sneak into the very heart of the white city to the tower of atonement completely unnoticed. More than determined to raise a holy hell of conflict…_

* * *

"Cherubim...?"

_**Judging from the puzzlement in your response we assume you've never heard of them. **_

The center head of the Charred Council spoke more with the firmness of an observation than an actual question.

"As good an observation as any, "Death sardonically responded. The sarcasm clear in his tone of voice, absent the normal tactless wordplay. Thankfully or not, the Charred Council overlooked the antics.

_**Most represent remnants of an ancient race older than even The Old Ones: Before the gardens of Eden took root to earth, before the cities of heaven and the legions of hell had reached their maturity, and long before the birth of your kin, Horseman.**_

_**The first race of the Creator, the guardians and servants of his realm beyond our own; The Seraphim. Scholars of this era would go so far to say that both angels and demons can trace their ancestry to these beings of fire.**_

"Fascinating. But what does this have to do with these Cherubim?"

**_Cherubim are humans who've contracted with Seraphim to contain their immense powers and more importantly, to guard their flame from all who would seek to use their immense powers for more nefarious purposes._**

Under his mask Death's eyebrows went up.

**_A Seraph that's crossed over into our dimension has no hope of returning to the side of the Creator and for eons after the first battles between heaven and hell they wandered aimlessly throughout creation until most of them found sanctuary on a forgotten realm riddled in ash and upon that planet they fell into a deep slumber._****_Thousands of years later this planet was reborn anew from its ashes and eventually became what is known today as the Third Kingdom._**

**_The sleeping Seraphim were awakened once more by worthy individuals on earth who possessed an extraordinary desire for power beyond their own and thus the Cherubim came into existence. For many ages the Council has kept a close eye on these silent guardians. _**

_**And it would appear that one such being has overstepped her boundaries. Violet Anapest, guardian of the azure flame was found among a field of angels within the gardens of Eden, and since her visit a shadow has spread across most of the Third Kingdom.**_

There was a pause and before Death could speak the head on the left picked up where its predecessor had left off.

_**Only recently was she taken prisoner by the White City, it had appeared they were unsuccessful in extracting information from her and thus their High Council had sentenced her to die by the Lance of the Twinned Judgment. However it seems that as of awhile ago she has somehow escaped their confines …**_

Along with an irritating headache Death could feel no small number of questions bombard their way to the forefront of his mind.

"Awhile ago you say? And yet it hasn't been a fortnight since I was called to these realms. Why is it only now that the Council intervenes?"

_**Actions taken by the White City in these matters have been preemptive and have not come to our knowledge until only recently. It seems as though this child of man has escaped their confinement completely undetected. The ensuing chaos has lead one such authority upon the high council to seek our aid. Thus your mission, Death: Seek out the Azure Flame and bring her before the Council. **_

"Or I could simply catch her, extract the necessary information, and kill her. And if she isn't willing to speak I kill her first and use my necromancy to forcefully loosen her lips."

_**Such actions will doubtlessly lead to failure and ensue more chaos. A Cherub can only be completely destroyed with the Lance of Twinned Atonement. The soul must be completely burned away to ensure that the Seraph of the Azure Flame does not manifest itself within this universe!**_

"I don't follow your reasoning"

This time the head to the right began speaking.

_**A Cherub stabilizes the immense power of its Seraphic counterpart. Like a container of sorts. When that container is destroyed the Seraph is released and will often rampage before fading away into nothingness. The resulting devastation is unnecessary and could result in further chaos. Bring the child back alive or face the consequences, Horseman. **_

On that note Death took his leave. Alive it is then, _unharmed _was another matter entirely. Depending on how much of a fight this scrapper would put up would determine whether or not she would come before the council with all of her limbs in their proper places.

He called for Despair as soon as he could and immediately made his way to the White City. Something was still amiss; there were details to these chains of events that the council had failed to clarify. Which lead him to suspect the Council has little knowledge to the finer details of this affair. That or they were adamant to disclose any information at all regarding the existence of these_ Cherubim_.

_Probably a mix of both _

He wasn't about to call the council out on this, as they were already short of patience with him since the Abomination Vault fiasco and he saw no point in further testing them for information he was sure he could find elsewhere. As irritating as it was to know his masters were determined to keep him in deliberate ignorance that was the least of his concerns. Another keen observation had pressed his thoughts.

_The White City is heavily warded and that goes double for their confinement facilities, someone skilled enough to escape from the Towers of Atonement undetected wouldn't have likely been caught so easily in the first place unless…_

The horseman held back an exasperated sigh. Already this mission was looking none too promising.

_Someone had snuck into the city with a stealth even __**I **__don't possess and had broken this cretin out of The Towers and most likely out of the White City…_

* * *

19th century London wasn't the pigsty Europe was. Even so the overdraft of smoke that filtered into the buildings from the streets was more than unwelcome to Violet's sensitive lungs. Apparently while the Americans were fighting their civil war the rest of the civilized world was undergoing a revolutionary innovation in day to day technology. So said the men outside her door and the odor of the smoke from the machines buildings away.

But that was the least of her worries. Even away from the towers of heaven she felt their weight bearing down upon her shoulders. They would come for her. And not just them. The creatures that have wandered the earth since that fateful accident in Eden were sure to find her if she wasn't careful. As grateful as she was not to be roasting alive on that damnable spear for a crime she didn't even commit, she was hardly out of the frying pan yet.

_**We **__aren't away from the dangers just yet. My Cocyutus is still missing and my senses are dulling. I can't even call upon my flame in this state. It's as though my powers as a Cherub are weakening. Ever since I was lured into Eden it's as though something worked its way into my being and has been sapping me of strength. The White City isn't responsible for this. But who is? I just hope I can find that out before heavens hounds sniff me out and have a run in with my savior. _

That last thought left her colder than she could remember being in a while. Neither heaven or hell or all the worlds in between needed to know of the existence of the one who saved her: Especially not the orchestrator of this chaotic symphony.

_Of all the hell raisers that could've come to my rescue…._

_**To Be Continued…**_

**And that concludes chapter 1. Those who catch the references to other fiction I hope you enjoy the little twist cause there's more ahead. And more action. I'm not calling this a crossover cause I'm not actually crossing two or more worlds I'm just taking concepts and twisting them anew. **

**On another note this fic may be listed as T but it's more on the line of T+. Lots of violence, swearing, disturbing turns of events ahead, and some mild sensuality that accompanies T+ stories. This is an M rated game after all. I find it hard to believe there's actually K and K+ stories for this fandom. **

**Anyhow here's what to expect in this story as far as references may go:**

**Negima**

**Shakugan no Shana **

**Deadman Wonderland **

**Possible D Gray Man**

**Slight Lord of the Rings too **

**and slight Bleach**

**If you like what you've read so far then please leave me commentary and stay on for the long ride! **


	2. Motivated by Smoke and Mirrors

**A/N: Welcome back guys! This one went relatively quick because I already had most of it typed up but I update on a fairly irregular pace. Depends on how my readers like the story or how much free time I have on my hands. **

**Fair warning this is a longer chapter and contains parts of heavy dialogue and description. But yes there is action in this and a twist at the end so read on and try to skip as little as possible!**

**In no way do I own Darksiders or any other references to popular fiction mentioned before. Only some of the OC's**

* * *

According to ancient lore, Seraphim were fire molded into flesh. Thus those mortals who inherited their powers and their blessings were loved and protected by the flame. Yet as impossibly large halcyon eyes stared into the distance of a fairly young twilight she felt almost grateful for the rush of the freezing, wintry wind that overpowered the stench of smoke, which practically poured from every building within this man made city afar.

No matter where her travels on earth took her she normally found some manner of peace within frosty nights such as these, but this time the apprehension rooted within her chest was stubborn.

_You've broken into the City of the Angels and have absconded away one of their perceived highest levels of criminal and you expect to be perfectly okay with that?_

She shook her head at her own thought, onyx hair dancing with her movements. Even if she did have a right to pass off her anxiety on her current predicament, some sort of supernatural intuition was telling her that something far more ominous than any higher level being from above or below was out there, and it was looking for something…

Up until she was more than partially convinced her suspicions had finally deluded her into investigating something that didn't even exist in the first place. That's how incorporeal this being is. Not too long ago she felt as though what she was actually chasing was her own shadow. That is, until she was attacked by the same "Shadows" she'd been chasing. Not long after she had learned of Violet's capture. Some sort of alarm system in her head told her that these string of events were somehow connected. And her old friend was caught tangled amongst them.

It didn't take her long to find out that the Angels had hunted her down and taken her prisoner. It also didn't take much insight to realize that these winged creatures were disturbingly short sighted and quick to point fingers. It was clear from her previous and recent misadventures to the Angels city that these beings for some reason wanted Violet gone as soon as possible.

_Someone wanted to hide something but why? I'd highly doubt that proud creatures like angels would fear the damned hordes of hell, even if they are wary of them. But if it wasn't hell they were preoccupied with then who…._

She sighed and fiddled with her hair, really starting to feel as young and naïve as she looked. Well among those who counted themselves among the Cherubim she was the youngest of the group. For all the 3 or 400 years she had watched over this earth her knowledge of lore beyond its borders left room to be desired.

And she had a nagging feeling that sooner rather than later her ignorance was going to come around and give her a good boot in the ass…

* * *

Warm welcomes weren't a luxury Death was familiar with, and it made sense. Who in their right mind would welcome Death? Not that he was expecting tea and crumpets when he got to the White City. No, that would've been more than annoying…and just awkward.

But more than a few blades to the face was quite unanticipated. Not that he would give them the satisfaction of showing them his mild surprise. As he had fought plenty of angels in the past he found their movements quite predictable and was able to parry them away without an incredible amount of effort.

He grunted in a mix of discomfort and surprise when he felt a particularly large blade sink itself into his chest and he quickly pushed himself off the offending object. Landing on the palms of his hands he flipped himself out of range from the next swipe of the sword. All in one swift movement Harvester had molded itself into one long scythe and had knocked the weapon from his opponent's hands.

Rather than sinking Harvester into her flesh, he delivered a harsh kick to her torso that sent her flying into the opposite wall with a sickening crack. The angel fell to her hands and knees practically coughing her lungs out. Before she could even think of trying to retrieve her fallen weapon a few feet away, Death towered over her coughing and heaving form.

"Uriel of the Hellguard I take it? The White City's greetings certainly leave something to be desired. Unless of course, you and your men aren't aware that I was sent by the Charred Council to clean up your mess concerning one of your former captives."

"What business does the Charred Council have with one of our criminals?" She finally managed to spit back in a mix of anger and shame at her defeat.

"That I'm not too sure on myself, however who are you to question their decree? Take me to Abbadon so that I may have further words with him on this affair, and ask me no questions. My patience is already worn and as you are now you aren't a match for me."

She uttered a few curses in her angelic language before quite reluctantly complying with his demand. So some angels were sensible. As per typical of his passings through the White City most went out of their way to avoid even looking at him. He would actually have to be sleeping to care less.*

The building in which Uriel lead him to was grand, to say the least. The tallest of the towers stretched too far into the heavens to completely be seen by simply looking up. He was lead to a large room big enough to fit fifty or more of the Hellguard into. At the center of the space was a corvinus* and just beyond that sat the Lord and Leader of the Hellguard: Abbadon in all his glory.

"So the council sent _you _..?!"

"Wow what a welcome. I suppose it's an improvement compared to the receiving your men outside the gates attempted to bestow upon me."

The huge and heavily armored commander of the Hellguard said nothing to that but the disdain in his gaze was more than enough of a message. He gave a sharp look to Uriel who quickly excused herself from their presence.

"What do you know of your former captive, this _Violet Anapest_?"

"We know that she is a Cherub from the race of man, and her contracted Seraph is Nakim; The Claws and Fangs of the Azure Skies. And that she was found with demonic assailants within the heart of Eden causing all kinds of Chaos."

As if on cue to his description, the corvinus projected an image of a young woman dressed in the garb of an angelic captive. She had long midnight blue hair that reached to the small of her back. Her slender yet curvaceous form and full breasts suggested she was in her mid twenties in human years (physically speaking). She wore her bangs tucked behind her ears and her face held an ageless quality he'd never before had seen in a creature of man. Her eyes caught his attentions the most; they were a jungle green and held an unnatural glaze over the iris and pupils as if she were…

"You do realize you've allowed a _blind human woman _to escape the Towers without alerting a single soul? Either this is an exceedingly powerful being that seems to have out witted logic itself or the Hellguard are losing their edge."

At Death's jibe Abbadon gave him a glare that could melt glass and his upper lip curled in a fearsome sneer. However, just before he could utter his heated retort a familiar scholarly voice had swiftly cut him off.

"By no means is this any ordinary human woman, Horseman. Violet Anapest, known more widely as The Sharp Shooter, is quite an accomplished magician and a fearsome warrior."

Azrael, the angel of death and quite an accomplished mage and scholar himself had entered the room and stepped between Abbadon and Death as if to disperse the growing tensions between the Horseman and the Hellguard commander.

"Cherubim aren't entirely human. Once they become containers for a Seraph they take on qualities that transcend their kind. Immortality, immunity towards flames, the use of unrestricted spells, supernatural abilities and senses that well cross the borders of inhuman and other traits that are completely unique to their contracted Seraph. In the case of the Sharp Shooter, to our knowledge her ability to detect magic and the presence of others is unparalleled, even among heaven's standards. Her eyes were granted special abilities upon her contract with Nakim and her Cocyuutus is a powerful spell gun called _Iris Tormentum**._

"Useful information old scholar, but an answer to my earlier question would be preferable to dodging it with excuses," Death responded tactlessly.

"As you've probably guessed Horseman, there's a high possibility that she was assisted in her escape from our realm," spoke Abbadon in a carefully controlled voice.

"Well I wonder what gave that away"

"Abbadon is quite correct on that observation as I've just learned," Azrael interrupted wisely just as Abbadon was about to lose his already short temper with the Horseman. All anger forgotten as Abbadon and Death focused their attentions on him with firm gazes that clearly demanded an explanation from the old angel.

"The Towers of Atonement is heavily warded, and at the time the Sharp Shooter's powers were severely suppressed so there was no possible way for her to escape, let alone do so undetected. Upon further investigation I have discovered that the reason as to why we received no alert to her escape through our protective magics was because they had been completely eradicated by an outside party."

At this Abbadon's eyebrows went skyward and even Death had to suppress his surprise.

"Surely though if that were the case, you of all angels could've picked up motion waves from that kind of power Azrael," Death responded while Abbadon furrowed his brows in confusion.

"Normally you would be right Death, had a powerful spell or magic been cast to do such a thing, I along with others would've sensed it immediately. However no such spell was used, it would seem that whoever made off with our criminal holds within them a natural ability to negate any sort of magic."

There was a heavy silence in the room and just as Death was about to lose his already frazzled patience, Abbadon had cut in.

"That's ridiculous. No human, Cherub or not could possess such an advanced ability and certainly not naturally!" Abbadon exclaimed, skepticism almost physically inherent within his gruff tone of voice.

"Creation has mysterious ways Abbadon. Anything's possible and humans although generally weak creatures, can be quite unpredictable," Death responded thoughtfully before turning to Azrael once more.

"Still there are some holes within this observation, Azrael. While that certainly explains how this individual would slip past the wards of the towers, it wouldn't answer for how they got in an out of them or the city in the first place. To do so they themselves would have to use some sort of teleportation spell and that contradicts your theory."

"You're partially right about that Death. There was in fact a foreign spell used within the Towers and throughout the White City. And while this ability seems omnipotent at a first glance, it does have its limits. It cannot for some reason impede the magic of the caster who possesses it."

"Can you identify the spell used?"

At Death's question the rider immediately noticed the angel's expression turn serious and grim.

"Is something the matter Azrael?"

"Yes and it concerns your question. The spell used is an unrestricted spell called Penumbra. It's a shadow teleportation spell, and to anyone but a high level mage it's nearly impossible to detect, but it does leave traces of energy. I had some mages at the Spiral Temple gather the remnants of energy left behind, and while I was unable to identify anything specific about the caster, with considerable amounts of effort I was able to roughly identify their current whereabouts."

"And that would be?"

"Within the Third Kingdom, on a small island country called England, in a city called London."

* * *

Not long after Death's departure did Azrael return to the crystal spire to look further into the identity of this mysterious mage. It took a considerable amount of efforts from Death and Azrael to convince Abbadon that it was too soon to send in Heaven's warriors. That likely they would alert their targets of their arrival and lose them. And from what Azrael knew of Death, and his abilities it was more than likely he could hold his own, and the warriors Abbadon could send would get in his way.

_More than likely but still…_

An anxiety the Angel of Death hadn't felt since the Abomination Vault incident took root in his mind. Something he had failed to inform Death of, or Abbadon of that matter, was the history behind the spell that mage used to traverse through the White City all but unnoticed.

_Penumbra…_

It was an unrestricted method, and generally that meant a Cherub. _Generally_. Unrestricted spells were ancient magics unique to the Seraphim that could accomplish feats that stretched the boundaries of impossible, and could put even Death's Necromancy to shame. However, Cherubim weren't the only _direct_ byproducts of the Seraphim, and that spell in particular was devised by a creature of Seraphic ancestry, and in no way was she a cherub.

_Puppet Master, Nosferatu, Dark Evangel, Secundum. Evangeline Avveruncus; the Second Shadow Lord. _

It was a spell completely unique to her, and it was unlikely that someone could've mastered it so perfectly. Though it was even more unlikely that she would even be alive after so many eons of slumber beneath the earth. She was a Shadow Lord; a fallen Seraph and an ancestor to the demons who hail in hell. As old as the Keeper of Secrets himself and unbelievably powerful. Only once he had encountered her eons before the Nephilim wars when he was an adolescent, and he would never forget the feel of her aura, or how it paralyzed him where he stood.

_The aura I picked up from the leftover energy from that spell certainly wasn't Evangeline's and felt more like that of a Cherub, but it held a dark undertone to it that wasn't at all not reminiscent of the Secundum herself . Is it possible that it really is her? It's as Death said Creation has mysterious ways so it's not an outright impossibility._

_Yet for the sake of that same Creation I hope that the Horseman and I are wrong in this affair…_

* * *

While it certainly was true that humans had their surprises for the most part they were weak, and easily out witted.

And very, very annoying.

Several times since Death had begun to prowl the streets of this city he'd been shoved, jeered at, and spit on by some of the people he passed by. He figured he should've expected as much as he'd adapted the guise of a relatively old man wearing oversized spectacles, and clothes that were outrageously worn. He probably came off as a cripple with the gnarled old walking stick and the rag tag appearance.

How they would cower in fear when they gazed upon the visage of his true form. But that would defeat the purpose of this current facade so he held in his irritation.

_I'd imagine that my current target would serve as an excellent outlet when I finally get my hands on her…_

His thoughts were interrupted by a rough shove that knocked him to the ground. A group of kids that were chasing down some random child for who in the abyss knows what for had carelessly pushed him out of their way. He growled low in his throat, picked himself, and in his decrepit old form stalked towards the brats with the gait of a far younger human.

_To the Abyss with this! Even in this form I can still give those pups a piece of my mind…and my fist! _

As he pursued them he saw them split off in groups of two. One of them doubtlessly was going to catch their prey from behind while the four remaining were going to trap the child from the front. He stalked the lone one first and figured he'd catch him, beat him senseless, and make an example of him in front of the others.

He certainly wasn't expecting someone else to share his sentiments.

When he turned the corner he found the kid doubled over, on the edge of consciousness and groaning profusely in pain before completely going under. From behind he saw the child cowering in the skirts of the one who saved him who looked to be a young girl just out of adolescence.

His curiosity got the better of him and he moved out from behind her and walked to the other side of the street without catching her attention and just watched the scene unfold.

At that moment the four other goons turned the corner to see their companion groveling on the ground. While the others stared dumfounded the one in the front marched on up to the girl and towered over her by at least a foot.

" Stupid little girl, didn't your parents ever teach you to mind your own business?! Better yet, what the hell gives you the right to beat up on—mduc %E$&^!"

Effectively cut off by a solid kick to the face, the punk toppled onto his backside and received a firm foot in the torso that caused a small crater to form underneath him.

Death, kids, and all watched this girl with a blatant surprise.

"Who the hell is this batshit crazy bitch anyway? I've never seen Jimmy taken down so easily by someone half his size?!"

"No kidding man! And she did it with only one leg!"

Death couldn't hold back a snicker at the fear in their voice. Oh yes, this was a very amusing show indeed. Though he idly couldn't help but agree with the basis of their thoughts. She was different than the humans he'd seen thus far today. Easier on the eyes for starters. She was younger than the woman he currently searched for, but in his eyes certainly prettier. Her hair was long, the color of Dust's feathers, and it extended down most of her body. Her skin was a soft ivory and her face had a doll like quality to it, currently wearing a shrewd expression with large cyan eyes that were half lidded in irritation.

Her wardrobe was also quite different from what he'd seen thus far in the city. Her top resembled a collared shirt that he'd seen in Asian regions of this land. It was a blue deeper in hue than her eyes, and the collar button was left open. What looked to be a cross between a chain and a belt, winded around her slender waist and her bottom was a long white skirt that came to her ankles with designs on its edges. Perhaps she was a foreigner, even so no woman or girl he'd ever seen in this young world sported black fingerless gloves that covered most of her arms up to the shoulder. Nor did they wear boots under their skirts or tie some sort of bandanna behind their shoulders.

_What a strange human child…almost too strange_

"Alright you morons I've got some questions to ask that _you'd better not bungle!"_

The four of them gulped.

"First question: why do you suppose the guy behind me ended up the way he did? You in the middle! Answer!"

The boy actually stuttered at first before responding.

"I guess it's because he might've knocked you over when he was chasing the kid…?"

**THWACK!**

"Bingo!"

The other three looked at their fallen leader who had taken a rather hard punch in the face with stupid expressions.

"Question number two: See those flowers over there, yeah the ones by the light post, on the other end of the street. You ingrates want to guess why they're there?"

"U-uhm wasn't there a k-kid who d-died somewhere around here? We're sorry okay?! Please do-Argh# #$&#$%!O_O6!"

All three flew not but three feet in a graceless ark, courtesy of a rather powerful kick in the gut.

"Well what do you know? You Polacks catch on fast—_**now get the hell outta here otherwise the next time the flowers will be for you!**_"

They screamed, clung to each other like simpering little girls, and scurried away as fast as they could. Death was chuckling and shaking at this point with barely contained mirth at their expense.

_I don't believe I've come across a human girl of her age with such cheek and brute strength. What an interesting child…_

She turned to find the child behind her except there was none. She shrugged and began to turn the corner purposefully stepping on one of the fallen men that had failed to escape with the others. As quietly as he could without catching her notice Death followed her for a while, studying her as much as he could.

The more he followed her the more he began to sense the aura surrounding her. It was faint, barely there but still there. Chances were she wasn't some ordinary human girl, and his intuition told him if he continued to follow her he would most likely find his current target…

* * *

She felt like an idiot for not sensing it before, but she could sure feel it now. This dark and menacing aura that belonged to no angel or demon she'd ever dealt with before. She was wholly unfamiliar with whatever was following her, but she had a good idea that whatever it was, it wanted Violet.

_I have to lose this guy and fast. _

Risking a confrontation was not an option. The more attuned she became with this aura the more she could feel the sense of dread curl into her stomach.

_I know something's here and its using a human guise to hide its true nature but I can't find it. This aura is too heavy and it's clouding my senses! I feel as though someone's got a blade to my throat…One wrong maneuver to indicate that I'm aware of this presence and I'll blow what little cover I have! _

Then she noticed something. That aura got closer. Chances were it was not but a few feet behind her. She turned another corner and for a split second got a glimpse of her pursuer. An old man with a walking stick, and a ragged appearance was walking not but 4 or 5 feet behind here.

_Holly shit it's him!_

She wasted no time in using her brief opportunity out of his sight to haul ass back to Violet's side and warn her of impending danger.

* * *

Death sensed a burst of magic from the corner the girl disappeared behind and nearly dropped his guise right there in frustration.

_Don't tell me…_

He rushed to the corner and turned to find his object of pursuit was no longer there or anywhere near the vicinity.

_Damn that perceptive brat…_

The only way she could've disappeared the way she did was through teleportation. He recalled the spell Azrael mentioned that was used to slip through the White City and the Towers without notice from the guards.

_Shadow teleportation; Penumbra, which means this brat's responsible for breaking Violet Anapest out of the Towers._

* * *

It was cold and windy and everything Dust hated about winter. Even though his lord and creator hailed from an icy land he could never get fully used to the climate, or like it for that matter.

It was easy to cut through the wind as he was no ordinary bird but it stung his eyes and the cold easily pierced through his disheveled feathers. If only he could migrate to warmer areas like the birds of the Third Kingdom could. His current sire would be less than pleased though with that course of action.

Speaking of his sire…

* * *

"_Are you serious Dust? You've lived and flown through far worse than this. It's no wonder the Crowfather gave you of all his servants to me. Well that and the obvious cowardice."_

_Dust let out an indignant squawk and scowled (as best as a crow could scowl) at his master's sarcastic remark._

"_I'm not asking much bird, just fly around the vicinity and see if you can spot any human who seems out of the ordinary and looks like this..."_

_Images of a navy haired woman with green eyes flitted through his beady eyes before he was jostled out of his dreamlike stupor and nearly lost his balance from his perch on Harvester's blade. He reluctantly did as his master desired after that (considering he was at the time still sitting on Harvester and his master would have likely continued to "accidently" jostle the blade until Dust did what he desired and he liked his tail feathers exactly as they were thank you very much)._

* * *

Afterwards Dust immediately settled himself on an old fence post outside some pub called "The Nightingale" still irked about his master's jest not but hours prior and had no inkling whatsoever to help the sarcastic old vulture out.

Not even accidently.

Which was exactly what happened as some human female fledgling literally hopped out of the shadows and proceeded to enter the pub. Startled by this appearance and by the girl's aura Dust let out an automatic frantic squawk and instantly caught the child's attentions. He hardly had the time to stretch his wings before a small but swift hand snatched him from his perch on the fence and easily pinned his wings with her palm and fingers. Just as he began to panic he felt that soft small hand give a hard squeeze that literally crushed the wind out of him, and knocked him out cold.

Perhaps he could've made due with a few missing tail feathers after all…

_**To Be continued…**_

**A/N: If you actually read through all of that then you get a cyber cookie! I hardly mentioned Dust and Despair in the previous chapter so I figured that this twist at the end would make up for my lack of descriptiveness. And I get to enjoy the torture this cliff hanger will give all of my respected readers! **

**What do you think will happen to poor Dust? And what will Death do when he finds out? MUWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-HACK! COUGH COUGH COUGH!**

**On another note I'd figure I'd clear things up:**

**That line at the beginning was borrowed from the novel of Darksiders because it was epic and aptly described Death's impassiveness towards his affect on others. **

**A corvinus is something I made up and it means Raven or watchful raven to my knowledge. **

**A rough translation of Iris Tormentum I believe is Tri colored gun. **

**To whoever has seen Bleach you'll recognize one particular scene in this chapter that I can't entirely take credit for. When I first saw it I couldn't stop laughing and somehow it fit into this story nicely!XDXD**

**Other than that Review please! I love commentary on my fics and sometimes depending on if I get any reviews I'll update at a quicker pace like I'm doing now!**

_**Animefreak114 Clocking Out**_


	3. READ ME!

**READ ME!**

**Plot revisions have been made to this story so it would be in your best interest to re-read just for the sake of sense! **

**Since the story is still in its infancy it isn't too drastic a change and I'd like to thank Cirex for the review!**

**When I was thinking of something more creative and fitting into this story other than Flame Haze another plot twist wound itself into my mind and for some reason I liked this one better than my previous one so I changed it up.**

**Sorry if I've royally abused and confused some of my readers at this point PLEASE FORGIVE ME!**

**Oh and I've also cleared up some grammatical and wording discrepancies (well the ones that I could catch anyway).**

**Reviews or PM's can really help me understand any shortcomings this story might have so review and tell me whatcha think of my revisions!**

_**Also I've made more corrections as to not confuse people and will be doing so between updating new chapters so let me know if you see some sort of grammatical error that confuses you thanks!**_

_**Former Chanter of Elegies= Sharp Shooter **_

_**That's the most recent change i'v made and hopefully the last. If you're lost look back at chapter two :)**_


	4. Shadowplay and Storm

**A:N/ Wow it's been sometime hasn't it? In my defense this was a BITCH to write! A lot of plot development in this Chapter and finally some ass kicking action! I'm not too familiar with writing fight scenes so go easy on me and tell me if I got anything wrong. **

**I do not own Darksiders or Darksiders II or any references to other fiction in this chapter. Only my OC's **

Duality has long since laid the foundations for this universe called Creation.

The darkness ever present to balance the light…

Death to check life…

Destruction to oppose Creation…

But if left unprotected these polar opposites would continually clash in a never ending battle that would eventually consume all. And hence the need for a middle presence arose; to act as a buffer between these two extremes.

Heaven and Hell had the presence of the Charred Council to keep them at bay. Between the Forge Lands and the realms of the dead lay the Trees of Life and Death, and more importantly, the Well of Souls. It was an existence which quite literally stood on the very borders between the vivacity of creation and the voided shadows of the underworld.

But something was amiss; the Well was not as it should be. The trees of Life and Death were weakening and as a result so was the Well of Souls that lay inside. The iron wall between creation and destruction was beginning to corrode and the shadows of the abyss were slipping through its cracks.

And for some reason it was flowing into the Third Kingdom.

It was only a little while before the capture of the Sharp Shooter that Azrael had begun to notice this. He'd considered the Charred Council would find out sooner or later given their connection with the entirety of Creation. What he didn't expect was for the Council to learn of this incident from another party within the White City, and for some reason that disturbed him.

_I wouldn't put it past Abbadon to have knowledge of this matter but even that seems unlikely. Who else within the White City could've known of this? And if so, how did they come by the information and why did they have it in the first place?_

It looked as though he had a bit of investigating to do…

* * *

_Reckless stubborn bitch!_

Dust actually flinched at the intensity of the mental screech he could hear from his current _companion_, and shrewdly thought she might as well have spoken them aloud. Then again, a fair number of the curses this woman was streaming in her head would've gotten a good flush from the demon king. Some things just weren't meant to be said.

At least she wasn't one to lash out in anger. These corridors were so cramped he wasn't sure he would have the room to doge. He was lucky she was even letting him spread his wings in the first place. But the crow figured that at the pace she was sprinting at he wouldn't be much use to her on foot. Still, she was _letting _him fly, and only enough to stay at pace with her.

The thought soured him greatly and conjured up some vivid recollections of only hours prior.

* * *

_Well this was odd; he wasn't one to sleep on his side, and for some reason his body felt __**heavy**__. Thankfully or not, the heaviness didn't seem to affect his eyelids too greatly. Nevertheless he certainly wasn't anticipating (or liking for that matter) to have his waking vision greeted by the daunting sight of slender vertical bars._

_By his disheveled tail feathers, the blasted human wench had __**actually **__managed to cage him. If he wasn't so terrified at the moment, his seriously injured pride at being caught and imprisoned in this infernal device like some common bird, would've prompted him to smash his own crown on the damned things as a means of self-punishment. _

_Upon hearing the undoubted sound of approaching voices, did he see it in his best interest to play unconscious for awhile longer. Closing his eyes once more as the door opened, he remained as pensive as his fear would allow him. _

_Closed eyes, and therefore lack of vision had its disadvantages: for instance he almost jumped out of his feathers when he felt his prison being rattled none too gently, and the only reason he didn't even flinch was because he was paralyzed by his fear. _

"_Huh, I thought I smelled something strange when I walked in. Pray tell what animal you've got caged up in here and why, Sonia?" _

_It was a voice unfamiliar to Dust. It was far too mature to be the child who abducted him earlier. _

"_I thought you'd of all people would realize it; the unfriendly traces of energy that surround this creature. Especially considering you found it easily enough. And the closest thing to an odor I can pick up on would be the stench of your breath you booze out."_

_Well speak of the devil and she shall appear. _

"_I've been drinking for __**centuries **__sweetheart, so needless to say I have a high alcohol tolerance. I'll have you know I'm sober enough to know exactly where you are standing should I feel the need to shove a boot up your ass. Besides I already get the feeling I know why you're holding this creature in captivity."_

_She tapped the cage idly and it was all Dust could do to hold back a flinch at the sudden vibrations the gesture caused._

"_So the only question remaining is what to do with the scrapper. I'd say we kill it and eat it. No point in wasting a perfectly good animal and I've always wondered what familiar tastes like"_

_The tiny heart within Dust's ribs dropped to his feet and then proceeded to make its way back up to his small chest via back flipping up his body. However this time the terror had an opposite effect. Acting on a primal instinct to survive his eyes snapped open. He gave a loud screech and dove for the face not inches from his prison in a manner that surely would've gouged out an eye had the bars been present or not. _

_Too bad his efforts backfired on him. _

_The screech cut off to a pained croak and his body fell limp mid lunge. Anger confusion and fear in such large doses did not sit well with the small crow and he gave a miserable caw. _

"_Humph, looks like someone was playing possum. Well it now makes sense why you wanted me to weave up talisman wards** when you came back. Even if my eyes are of little use to me right now I'd still prefer them intact within my skull."_

_The child called 'Sonia' spoke up from the corner of the room "No need to be alarmed my feathered friend, killing you would serve either of us little purpose, right now anyway." Dust didn't know whether to be relieved that he wasn't going to be turned into a stew anytime soon or fearful of the day he'd outlive his usefulness… whatever that may be. At least his ambivalence allowed him a calm he hadn't possessed since his capture. He took the opportunity to study his poachers within the room. _

_One he recognized as the fledgling from before who caught him. The other he almost attacked he recognized through the mental images his master had sent him as the woman he was tasked to look out for. Thinking of his master made him wonder if he had figured out that Dust was missing yet. On the slight chance he hadn't Dust hoped he'd catch on soon. _

"_This familiar may have knowledge of our current fix that could be useful to us. If we take it to Stark he may be able to use his abilities to probe the beast's mind for information. At the very least we can discover who's hunting us __**now**__. Cause from what I felt earlier today this new enemy certainly wasn't an angel. And I don't know the feel of a demon when I sense one, because they don't come to Earth."_

_The woman who'd previously had been toying with the cage Dust was perched in, had walked on over to a fair sized bed and fell upon it with an exasperated sigh before speaking up a tired response. _

"_In theory the idea has promise, but you forget that even Stark's abilities have their limitations. Peering through the mind of a familiar recklessly is like looking through a foggy crystal ball or a rouge seer stone: We don't know who else could be watching us from the other end."_

_At that the child furrowed her brows in uncertainty, but didn't let it show in the voice of her reply._

"_A risk doubtlessly, but a necessary one. We aren't exactly in a position where we can't afford __**not **__to take risks. Because, in case you haven't figured it out by now our position __**sucks**__. Also a change in location is most needed since I'm more than certain it won't be long before our new hunter traces the energies left by my Penumbra back to here."_

_At the child's words the woman let out a harsh sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose in what Dust guessed to be a habit of frustration._

"_Fine, to Stark it is then. We can use the underground passage in this room to at least make it to Whales just a little south of where he resides in Ambriosa. Knowing Stark he has wards up that'll prevent even you from entering the city through magical means." _

"_Sorry Violet, but there's no __**we**__ in this. You take the bird and head out alone and don't wait for me. I'll make it to Ambriosa through a different route"_

_To that the woman's head snapped up and she turned towards her partner with irritation written across her face (which Dust more than mirrored since being taken further away from his master worked against his interests on so many levels)._

"_Are you seriously suggesting a feint? Firstly, it'll never work. That's the oldest tactical trick in the book and more than likely this guy already knows, or at the very least suspects, that you're with me. Secondly, and more importantly, you can't afford to fight anymore than I can at the moment or you'll attract __**them**__."_

_Dust blinked…Wait, who exactly are them?_

"_Of course he's going to guess it's a feint. Considering he's tracked us to this extent I would be surprised otherwise, but that hardly matters. I'll release a powerful aura which will immediately draw his attention. Meanwhile you, in your current state will only release hot air so he won't be able to follow you anyway. And it's because he knows we're traveling together that this is necessary. If he thinks he can track me and find you in the process then it's a problem we need to rectify and I can't put up wards to save my life. Literally."_

"_Ugh, and what if in a confrontation with this foe you draw out __**them**__? Then you'll have two enemies and your chances of escape will narrow even more."_

"_Let me worry about that. Unless you've got a better plan then by all means let's hear it."_

_The woman growled in response but after some silence relented and proceeded to walk back over to Dust's cage. Coming down to eye level with the small bird, she gave him an intimidating look over. _

"_Alright bird brain, before l let you out of this cage let's establish a few __**ground **__rules okay?"_

_At the special emphasis she put on the word "ground" Dust gulped._

* * *

Dust, by this point, was too irritated to be scared, and that didn't happen often (not that he himself would admit to that). He was irritated at being caught, at the hellish Amazon he was currently controlled by, but more importantly at having the entirety of their plans to knowledge, and unable to tell his master any of it due to these blasted wards.

Even so Dust knew his master well enough to know it was only a matter of time before he caught up to this wench. He would enjoy watching his sire drag this woman before the council kicking and screaming.

Too bad he wouldn't be present to witness him dispose of the ridiculous child from before who _actually _thinks she can stand up to him and live to the morning after. Once Death had decided he was going to kill someone, they were as good as dead. As that naive little girl was about to learn.

* * *

"The Nightingale" eh?

A pub so deep into the city was certainly not where he expected a warrior on the run to congregate. Inspecting the surrounding area, he found a couple of faded raven colored feathers upon the cemented earth. They were just a few feet from an iron fence that he had no doubts Dust was perched on before his abduction. His suspicions were confirmed: Dust was most likely abducted by that child he'd chased hours prior, and most likely in her captive.

But not dead: although the bond between Dust and Death was stifled due to some foreign magic, he would still know whether or not the crow was still among the living. He cursed vehemently under his breath in languages that had passing humans shoot him strange glances. If something should happen to that crow, that damned brat would be _begging _him to end her.

As though his hostile thoughts had summoned her forth, he felt an undeniably familiar surge of energy that had him snap his gaze to the roof of the building where he found her sitting upon the shingles with an arrogant smirk upon her face. Offhandedly, he noted her attire had changed since their last encounter; she now wore black pants instead of a skirt tucked into long armored boots. Her top was obscured by the long trench coat, but she still wore the same gold chained belt around her waist as she had done so before. He could also see the fingerless gloves upon her hands from outside the oversized coat.

_She really _is _a child if she's so cockily smug about an assailant she knows nothing of._

Not giving a Damn whether or not he drew attention to himself amid the passing humans, he leaped upon the roof beside the one she sat upon with one powerful bend of the knees, still in his human guise. Almost immediately she stood and for a brief moment the two studied one another. That's when he noticed something else about her; Dust was not with her.

"Where is the crow I know you've taken," Death demanded in a low, soft voice. It was not at all unlike the smooth and almost silent caress of a sharp blade upon the skin of the throat. Instead of answering him she turned sharply and bolted away, jumping from roof to roof. Death had little choice but to follow, growling low under his breath in agitation.

Not maybe ten minutes later where Death was _seriously _losing the remnants of his already abused patience that she stopped upon a grassy plain well outside of the city. If he'd have any more patience he would've noted that it was somewhat impressive she could've lead him to this distance in so little time.

In one move he shed his human façade and drew the dual scythes of Harvester from his hips in an offensive stance.

"This is not a game _little girl _and I do not like repeating myself. The next time I have to ask, it'll be your corpse which gives me the answer."

The child extended her hand and from it a cyan colored energy had burst forth and warped itself around the appendage in the approximation of a blade. With an aura emanating intent to kill she spoke her next words.

"Your plan has a minor flaw: you have to kill me first."

_Then so be it._

Harvester's blade met her glowing hand and he could see the surprise in her eyes at the now whole weapon in his hands that had once been two. Before he could aim a kick at her torso that would've sent her flying, she released the energy upon her hand and back flipped out of his range. He slightly stumbled at the unexpected absence of his opponent. Upon meeting with the ground she vaulted herself forward once more into the air and on Harvester's blade. Using his weapon as a ramp of sorts she propelled off the thing and kneed him in the mask once more causing him to stumble a little from the raw force of her attack.

It was all the time she needed to once again call forth the energies in her hand and bladed energy met with a cadaverous torso from behind.

_Ugh…_

The blade retracted and he could see her prepare for another strike that would've taken his head off had she succeeded. However he imagined she wasn't expecting him to roll out of her range with a speed that communicated her attack hadn't greatly affected him as she hoped. She was still high in the air from her previous attempt to take his head off, and that left her grievously exposed to him now.

_It's time to end this…_

* * *

Blood poured modestly from the open wound. Her body screamed in a white hot agony and it was all she could do to keep the feeling in her arm.

"On instinct you unleashed your full potential to divert my attack. Wise move. If you hadn't then your head would be rolling at my feet by now," She could hear the rough voice of her opponent muse from a few feet away.

True she had dodged the worst of it, but the weapon still managed to slice a gash from just over her right shoulder down to just above the shoulder blade. Not only had the scythe broken through her Yogasa armor with almost no difficulty, it had even been able to parry her _Ensis Exsequens._**

A burst of magic and a gust of wind was the only warning she received before a magical tornado of bone threatened to sweep her away. She tried to evade its force but found her arms and legs impaired by ghastly creatures of sinew and bone that had risen from the earth to hold her in place.

_Magic...But when did he..? Damn him!_

It was second nature to her now to summon her flame from deep within herself. Reaching with her right hand out to the heavens, crimson fire, the color of the blood that spilled down her back dispelled the whirlwind and the creatures that held her down with relative ease. She barely managed to react before she felt the familiar pressure of a unified scythe against her glowing blade of energy.

This time however, she was having difficulty matching his strength. The exerted force onto her injured shoulder caused the wound to further tear and she winced in pain.

_The wound I inflicted earlier seems to hold no affect on him and he hasn't slowed down or weakened in raw ability yet. Hell, he doesn't even bleed! What kind of being is he? Consequences be damned, if I don't go at this guy with my full strength, he really __**will **__be talking to my corpse! _

A solid kick to her chest brought her out of her split second reverie and would've smashed her into a wall had she not somersaulted mid air to land on her feet. With a good amount of distance between her, and her foe she raised a hand just above her chest and recited the ancient words in her mind.

_**Actus noctis erebeae** **_

The flames burst forth to answer the call. Her opponent readied himself for an oncoming attack.

_**Stagnet!**_

The flames spiraled into the palm by her chest and she raised another hand to cup the forming orb.

_**Complexio!**_

She crushed the flames within her palm.

_**Supplementem Pro Armationem!**_

They enveloped her form and she felt herself in a sense become one with the flame. She could feel its heat burning through her.

_My time in this form is limited though. If I don't end this within a few seconds then I'm a goner for certain._

* * *

Death had seen many forms of incantations and many more magics in his long life within Creation, but he was unfamiliar with the nature of _this _magic. His opponent stood before him almost a different being. Hair and eyes burned a bloody crimson like the flame she had recently commanded she launched at him with a renewed vigor.

But Death was no stranger to surprises, while he had difficulty in countering her attacks he was able to do so nonetheless. Instead of using her hand as a blade she had pulled out a long dagger not even the size of her forearm from her cloak. He would've mocked her for it if he hadn't noticed the same form of energy that had enveloped her hand had also claimed the blade this time in an angry crimson glow: elongating its reach enough to parry Harvester.

The fight so far had cost him only a few painful gashes from that weapon on pale skin that did not even bleed. Even if she was stronger than before, he still had the advantage, for _he _hadn't released his full powers yet. As the fight progressed he surmised he would have to if he was to inflict serious damage and needed to do so while he still had the stamina to do it. That was one thing he could give this brat credit for thus far. Even if some of her moves were archaic and spoke volumes of her inexperience in battle, she had a monstrous amount of stamina.

As he was about to call on his fearsome Reaper Form to end this struggle he heard a long piercing wail he recognized all too well that immediately broke his concentration and that of his opponents as well.

_What in the name of Oblivion are _they _doing here? _

He'd only heard that terrible shriek on seldom occasions within the farthest and most forsaken lands of Creation. They lived in a world where worlds rotted away in an all encompassing shadow never to be seen or remembered again. It was a place riddled with nothing but the monochrome shades of black, and the sickly heat of a dying flame.

The Abyss…

* * *

Somehow she had managed to draw them forth.

Fury, sole horsewoman within the four horseman of the apocalypse had dismounted her steed, Famine with her ever energetic whip and had readied herself for the battle she knew was coming.

A thick shadow had spread over the Earth not a few feet from her. At least it looked somewhat like a shadow from what she could see. Upon closer inspection did she see that from this Shadow did the grass wither and leave the brown earth exposed, which then cracked, bubbled, and oozed like some inflamed ulcer or cyst. Then the ground gave way as though ripped apart from some unseen force within its depths and the stench was foul. It hit the horsewoman's senses with a force that had her coughing if only for a minute. It smelled of a decomposing corpse left about on a battlefield, only the corpse this time seemed to be the Earth itself. All in all it was a gruesome scene she'd never before witnessed.

Then they emerged as terrible pillars of smoke before taking on a corporeal shape of steeds, with their respected riders upon them. Their mounts were the same color as Famine but the shade was off, sickly almost. They were as big as her brother War's horse Ruin. The riders upon them were cloaked completely in black and it was impossible to make out any detail except for the armored hands that held the reins.

She called Famine to her side and hoped onto her mount just as the others began to encircle her. She cracked her whip of unruly lightning in anticipation. It was time for some answers. If she had to beat it out of these phantasmal ingrates then so be it...

* * *

Death was ambivalent: stuck between anger and confusion as one of the rarest creatures in all of Creation had surrounded him and prepared to attack. One of the very creatures that the Nephilim along with himself helped bring into existence, when they fed the Abyss realms upon realms in their destructive wake and strengthened its power.

These beings before him were personifications of its power, purpose, and desire. They would forever ride the worlds that had been consumed by it.

_Abyssal Riders…_

_**To be continued… **_

**A:N/ And so the plot thickens…Fair warning readers most chaps will probably end with some sort of cliffhanger. Partially because I want to keep you on your seats for more but also because this chapter would go on forever if I didn't cut it off somewhere! :D **

**Anyhow time to rectify a few things: **

**Talisman wards are of my own creation. Think of them as wards weaved into a special piece of paper that can cast wards over a specific being or area. They're quickie wards you can say: they're less time consuming to weave like actual wards and take up less magic but their one weakness is the talisman: If that gets destroyed the wards break up. Other than that they're just as potent as any regular ward. **

**Most magics in Darksiders seem to be unique to the species of the caster. I.E Demons have their own magics and incantations just like angels and makers and even Nephilim. So guess what? Latin is the language for unrestricted spells that these earthen mages use! Yeah not very original but it works: **

**Ensis Exsequens means executioners sword **

**The incantation Sonia used is part of an unrestricted spell called Magia Erebea which will be touched on briefly later in the story but here's the translations for the incantation. **

**Actus Noctis Erebeae—Form of the Dark Night **

**Stagnet—Fixitate**

**Complexio—Seize **

**Supplementem Pro Armationem—Load Magic, Armament **

**I believe that's it for now. Translations will always be in the A:N so don't use Google translate. I'm pretty good with Latin myself so if you have questions then ask. **

**Pop a review and tell me whatcha think. It really helps to have feedback even if it is criticism or just you asking a bunch of "What happens now?" Kinda questions.**

_**Animefreak114 Clocking Out!**_


	5. The Flyer's Fall

**A/N: Sorry for taking so long to update! It's been nuts over here for quite some time and I'm making more changes to the story as the plotline evolves so ****Make sure to go back to previous chapters cause the terminology changes a bit.**** Once again the changes aren't really plot revisions but changes to some jargon that can be minorly confusing if you don't go back a little. As a reward I'll be posting up the next chapter by tomorrow or Sunday. Depending on the reactions and possible reviews I get could depend on which day the next Chappie comes out :) **

**Oh and the Abyssal Riders I'm referring to aren't like the ones in Darksiders that War had to deal with just before he rescued Ruin. Sorry for any confusion!**

****I do not own Darksiders I or II in any way or any references to other works. Just some of my OC's**

**Let the Story Commence! **

_**Darkness, nothingness of human after-death,**__**  
**__**Receive and keep him in the deepnesses of space -**__**Profundum, physical thunder, dimension in which**__**  
**__**We believe without belief, beyond belief.**_

_**-Wallace Stevens**_

_In all of creation the most feared and mysterious world was the world beyond all worlds: Oblivion. It was a vast void; nothingness in and of itself. As such it was a world without rhyme or reason. Even the most omnipotent beings were rendered virtually powerless in its depths. Death, along with a handful of the Firstborn Nephilim knew, or at least suspected when they ravaged world after world and left their dying scraps to the Abyss, that the accursed realm was probably the closest world to Oblivion. _

_It was before he had turned against his brethren and became a Horseman. It was at a time when he was young and naïve. He would reason to himself that there was no harm in feeding such a realm the worlds he and hordes of the Nephilim fed. Everything dies eventually, even whole worlds. They all would go to the Abyss someday. _

_Along with the creation of the Abominations, killing and corrupting worlds the way he and his kin had done, was a transgression that never stopped haunting him. He killed off too many races to force himself to care, but killing off worlds was something different. In his return to the dying Ravaiim world and the Abominations Vault he'd come across the first of the Abyssal Riders._

_The ground beneath the unearthly hoofs withered away and rotted. The smell was almost unbearable: the smell of a slow decay. The visage of the rider was covered in a cloth that looked more like moving shadow than actual fabric. The face was hidden beneath a thick veil of darkness made Death wonder if it even had a face at all. The only thing that made this creature somewhat physical was the rusted armament upon its exposed forearms which looked like no flesh Death had ever seen: a dark grey with cracks that oozed whatever made them smell so badly. _

_He'd seen creatures that were somehow able to thrive in the disparity of the Abyss, but this one was different. It wasn't some small animal once native to another world that had adapted over time to the desolate worlds of the Abyss once its home had fallen to its depths. If Death had to personify the retched realm he now traversed through then he would look to this creature. It looked as though it was born from the Abyss itself, and that observation didn't sit right with the pale rider. _

_The Abyss could not give life. Like embers of a dying flame, all life would lose its vigor as quickly as it had gotten it in this world. The Abyss could sustain life, however briefly, but it could not __**give **__it. It could only snuff it out._

_So how in Oblivion was a world meant to rot away and destroy able to create?_

* * *

Well at least now, Death could somewhat better understand why many life forms couldn't even tolerate his presence. He had much in common with the Riders he now fought against. Like himself, they were akin to a physical representation of Death. No self respecting creature would go near them if they could help it. Death could barely stand being as close as he had to be to slice these things to bits.

He didn't smell _that bad_, firstly…

Nor was his aura _that _decrepit…

More importantly, _he was a much better fighter…_

They weren't outright terrible at combat but he could see that they really weren't meant for fighting. An angel of the Hellguard would have some trouble defeating these things but certainly not him. But the more he and the child had fought against these beings the more his preternatural senses were telling him that he needed to end this skirmish as quickly as possible. Their mere presence was an adversity in and of itself. Additionally he could feel his stronger enemy weakening ever so slightly as more and more time passed. This was a good chance as any to take both parties out in one powerful entourage of attacks.

In a mist of a bruise colored aura made visible he became the Reaper. The child, having sensed the dramatic change in his aura, had quickly dodged the swipe of his scythe that had taken out the rest of the riders. Another powerful swing of his weapon and she was smashed up against the wall just barely keeping Harvester away from her flesh.

* * *

It was by instinct and instinct alone that she was able to keep his weapon at bay once more. Her body was on autopilot as her mind was more than a little fuzzy from her less than gentle greeting with the stone behind her. She could feel the blood running from her head into her face and eyelashes. She could also feel the slight terror under the adrenaline she was now operating on.

While this wasn't the limit of her strength she instinctively knew she was cornered in a very literal sense. She was disoriented enough to where she couldn't think clearly and already the effects of her earlier spell were wearing off. By the time she would be able to completely regain her senses she wouldn't need them.

Many books she had read and had been read to her describe the visage of death to be a grim reaper holding a long pale scythe. Was this him then..? As her strength faltered and her vision blurred she could feel the cold steel pressing lightly against her throat and she couldn't help but wonder if it was meant to end like this…

* * *

It was over for her.

No creature in Creation could withstand his almighty Reaper Form and from the way she was barely holding on, Death guessed she wouldn't be the first.

Nevertheless he wasn't pleasantly surprised to see that the Abyssal Riders from before had returned with a vengeance. Thankfully his borderline pre-cognitive senses had registered their sneak attack before it could even hit and quickly sped out of the way.

Much to his chagrin, he gave his other opponent the window of opportunity she needed to slip away from him entirely by using that infernal teleportation spell Penumbra…

_Damn that wench! Teleportation magic requires a lot of energy. I didn't expect her to have so much more left in reserve…_

That fiery form she had fought in for the latter half of their battle, Death had guessed: was somewhat similar to his Reaper Form. It had allowed her to tap into her full potential. He had first thought when they were fighting that she was beginning to run low on energy as her reaction time dulled with her aura, but he was wrong.

_It looks as though she is only able to maintain that form for a certain amount of time. Even then she has difficulty controlling it and that becomes more evident as she continues to fight in it. A few centuries of more experience would definitely be to her benefit if she's going to fight toe to toe with me…well assuming she even __**lives**__ that long._

His Reaper Form was the height of his near God-like abilities. Finishing the others off before she could get too far wasn't to trifling a task…it was just annoying. When dead, upon falling to the earth would these creatures literally crumble away to a black dust that would be whisked away by the frigid winter wind.

_Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, so the humans would say…_

Upon turning to pursue his prey did the strangest of sensations literally hit the Pale Rider unexpectantly. Something felt as though it was scratching and tearing at his mind though he didn't know where it was coming from. Then he noticed something else amiss…

Although he had slain the last of the riders their aura had not dissipated…in fact:

_Is it growing stronger..?_

It was literally so powerful now it was visible: a black mist that seemed to get thicker and thicker with each passing minute. The sounds within his mind had gotten louder and louder until he could make out a voice uttering a chant in a language he had never heard before…

**Pulvis et umbra sumus…**

**Pulvis et umbra sumus…**

It was a voice deep inside. Not his own, but that of someone else. It was crawling into a scream. It was draining his strength and so he reverted to his previous form. The cries grew louder before he finally realized:

_Shit this is a mental attack…someone is trying to probe my mind! This miasma must be acting as a medium for whoever is casting this spell! I've got to…_

His train of thought was effectively cut off by a shrill shriek inside his head and his vision went temporarily white before he collapsed and fell into the void of unconsciousness…

* * *

_She felt as though she were floating outside of herself before the smallest and briefest of feeling flooded her weary frame._

_Lethargy…_

_It wasn't the cold, numb laxness that almost terrified her once before but warm and aching, which was a good thing in her case._

_Pain was definitely a good indicator that she was at the very least, still alive. _

_She opened her eyes. Her vision was rather blurry, but she could still make out the warm colors of a dimly lit room in the midst of a late twilight. She lay upon something soft, and she could vaguely hear voices of two people in the room with her. One was male and the other was female. _

"_**Are you serious Stark?"**_

"_**Hey who am I to leave a pretty lady to her lonesome and especially in the condition that she's in?"**_

"…_**Were you so busy ogling the two D's on her chest that it escaped your notice your current damsel in distress lying there isn't human?"**_

_She definitely knew she was alive now. The brief ire that sparked in her sore chest was enough incentive to rise from her position on the bed and make it known to this bitch she was no __**damsel in distress!**_

_Alive as she was, she still found herself too weak to manage more than a pained, frustrated groan at her inability to move her very heavy body. That had successfully caught the attention of the two humans who had been conversing about her. As they moved to her bedside she was able to gaze with her somewhat blurry vision, at her supposed "saviors". _

_The man looked to be in his thirties with light blonde hair and had shaded spectacles hiding his eyes. The female appeared as a young woman in her twenties with navy hair and jade colored orbs that had an odd look to them. The man outstretched a hand that hovered over her temples. The appendage had some strange object over the middle finger. It was bright silver and ornate in design but it looked too much like a claw for her comfort. The most movement she could manage was a flinch. She felt disgusted with herself for flinching like some scared animal. The frustration at her powerlessness overwhelmed the burning ache in her body enough to release a warning growl and a twitch of her own clawed digits. _

_**They hadn't removed her claws..?**_

"_**Easy now, I'm not going to hurt you. You've been stabbed by a blade called Tenebrae** and if you were anything but what you are you would've succumbed to its magic some time ago. I've managed to cleanse the wound temporarily, but until I can completely purify it, you're still susceptible to its evil. If you exert yourself too much then you'll fall under its grip once more and if that were to happen, you'd be beyond my help," responded the owner of the hand above her head that had begun to glow.**_

_She could feel the strength coming back to her body and when he removed his glowing hand she had enough vitality to at least sit up and think clearly._

"_**Well if you're up to it, then I suppose I can answer the questions that you've got spinning in your head, if you can answer mine first, that is."**_

_With those words from him, a grimmore she hadn't realized he had before was opened up and sat neatly upon his lap. He raised the hand previously over her head above the spellbook and it glowed brightly in anticipation. _

"_**Can you tell me your name, fair lady?"**_

_Her eyebrow twitched in irritation at the endearment but she was quick to answer._

"_**Fury…"**_

* * *

Oversights weren't something that the Charred Council had a problem with. Given their connection with the Creator and all of Creation, they saw all. From the silent rise of the Cherubim to Abbadon's Sacrament Bomb, they were the ever watchful stewards of the balance; the weight of their gaze had missed none. And, Creator forbid, what they couldn't see themselves, they would use their most feared enforcers, The Horsemen, to be their eyes.

But one such Horsewoman was in an unfavorable situation.

Even if the Council couldn't foresee the actions of its soldiers, it could at least feel the life force of the four riders from their connection that was formed when the council granted the four incredible powers. They could vaguely sense that the rider of the black horse was weak, and in a precarious position. The Council could not afford to lose the horsewoman or the knowledge she potentially possessed concerning the matter of the Third Kingdom she was tasked to investigate.

The Watchers were still in development. Moreover, on their own they were defenseless to whatever had injured the horsewoman. Watchers were out of the question, for sure, in this quagmire.

Hence was the reason why Strife and War rode to the small town of Ambriosa to get some answers, and more importantly, to aid their sister.

War was a bit unsettled. Something he'd never show on his stern face to anyone in Creation. But in his mind, it was given free reign. He had fought alongside Fury countless times over the centuries of their service to know she was not easily beaten in combat. This enemy was strong and she was currently weak. They had to hurry should it realize she still breathes and choose to finish its job. He was more than certain Strife had mirrored this feeling inwardly as he was somewhat closer to the Horsewoman than he.

Then there was Death. He had been sent to the earth tasked to hunt down a rouge mage who potentially started this whole mess. Would he know of their sister's quandary? After assisting his sister he would seek the elder horseman out to aid him. He might know more concerning these strings of events that were doubtlessly connected…

* * *

It had been almost a day since she'd faced that monster and still he did not pursue…

_Did those creatures actually get to him..?_

She didn't know whether to be relieved or worried if such a feat was possible. The fucker didn't even bleed! He had taken her attacks from her executioners sword like it was nothing and he was even strong enough to withstand her Magia Erebea.

_I felt as though I were fighting my master all over again…If it wasn't for her training I'd have been dead within seconds. _

She _hated _the fact that she had to tuck her tail between her legs and run like she did. It burned at her pride, not only as a Cherub but as a mage and a warrior to do so…

* * *

_590 seconds is your limit eh? Not bad for a human I suppose…_

_It wasn't a pleasant feeling to feel your own blood literally pouring from you. She was slippery and sticky with the red fluid and it terrified her more than it disgusted her. _

_But a feeling more than the terror of death had manifested within her as she lay prostrate upon the earth, all but at the mercy of her malicious mentor. She knew Evangeline could pick up on such things. Sonia could all but feel the smirk in her aura as the Second Shadow Lord hauled her over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes._

"_Is it not scary to learn one's limit Sonia Belmond?"_

* * *

_Fuck this shit…What was I back there? A shrimp in a fight against whales?_

She knew it was childish to feel so, but her anger was nearly potent enough to bring her to tears. But that would not solve anything. She knew she had not the time to brood and wonder why. For now she needed to find a place to hide. Her head was pounding so hard she figured that she had a concussion. That and the pain in her arm had returned with a vengeance once she called of her Erebea

The gash that freaky bastard gave her wasn't healing in the slightest so she mended it with some bandages as best as she could just to keep her blood loss at a minimum. Still she had little feeling in her arm and was extremely fatigued from the use of her Erebea and the earlier loss of precious life liquid.

_Ugh I need a nap…_

While she didn't want to waste time and give any enemies on her tracks to catch up, fighting them as weak as she was with no rest in between was just as risky. She had concluded that rest would potentially be the lesser of two evils. So she found a small cave to hide in and attempted to rest as best as she could with the threat of decayed riders and possibly Death himself still looming over her mind. She felt as though she'd gotten maybe 3 or 4 hours of rest when she was awoken by an aura way too close to her personal space.

She snapped her sore eyes open and on reflex attempted to lash out with her damaged arm to no avail. She swung out with her other despite the effort it took to do so and was easily caught in a vice like grip.

"Easy Sonia! It's me!"

Now that was a familiar voice. She calmed down and got a good look at the person she couldn't have been happier to see.

"You have no idea how much a sight you are for sore eyes right now. And I mean that quite literally," she had said in a breathy voice of relief. She gazed upon a boy only a little older than she, wearing faded black slacks, an old overcoat with a scarf slung around his neck. His skin, a poor white, was covered in dust and soot that stuck out like a sore thumb. His old bandana, though torn in some places, hid most of his white hair in spikes. He was an albino, and it fitted him to some extent, as the Cherub guardian of the white flame. He was Nathaniel Reever, contracted to Geminia, Armament of Duality. Most knew him by his title as The Exorcist, but she knew him better as a longtime friend and lover. Before she could voice any protest he pulled her into a tight hug.

"Ouch, I'm injured you ass!"

"And whose fault is that."

"Why don't you ask the one who did this to me."

He pulled away to study her injury which though not fatal right now, could seriously impede her should they take too much time messing around. He turned around and held his arms out behind him, leaning forward a bit.

"Here climb on my back; I can tell that you've lost too much blood to cover the distance from here to Ambriosa in a timely pace."

She wasn't in the mood to argue so she quietly complied with his wishes and was hauled into a piggy back shortly before her companion broke into a dead run.

"How did you find me anyway," she asked as though they were walking at a casual pace.

"Stark had informed me that you were taking a different route to Ambriosa, so I figured I'd look around and I'd sense your presence somewhere in the area. I didn't expect to find you injured and as fatigued as you were," he turned to face her and she could see concerned alighting his grimy features.

"Well I'm fine now so there's no need for that face. And I know what you're thinking; if you were there you could've helped me. And you're wrong on that thought. The only reason I'm still here is because I lucked out and if you had been there…"

She bit her lip. There was a reason she had gotten into this mess without involving him. Other than a few of the Cherubim she and him had fought alongside with, no one knew they were paramours. For both of their sakes they agreed to keep it like that. Especially in a situation like the one they were currently stuck in, lest they be used against one another by their enemies. But more so in this situation because…

"The being I fought against was way too strong. Even with the two of us our chances would've been doubtful, and those riders had appeared again because I was careless. If he hadn't killed you, then they probably would have. I think that's what happened to him since he hasn't followed me."

"I'd doubt it."

She looked at him with raised eyebrows and widened eyes. Although he didn't look back at her, the expression on his face as he looked ahead was somber.

"Your idea with the crow was a good call on your part. Stark was able to pull the info from its mind using his flame. The bird's name is Dust. It used to be a servant of the Keeper of Secrets before it fell under a new sire. As part of some sort of agreement Stark outright refused to elaborate on, it's bound by powerful magic to the Nephilim Death: One of the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse. He's the eldest of the four and the most powerful. Probably not as strong as Evangeline but pretty damn close. You, me, and Violet at our strongest would probably have our asses handed to us on a silver platter against this guy."

Internally she groaned in a mix of exasperation and worry.

_Ugh, I had a feeling that was the case..._

"Well at least Stark hasn't lost his touch. To be able to get that much information from a simple familiar…Wait a minute, what the heck is Nephilim," She questioned him and he shrugged.

"Beats me. As per usual Stark's very conservative with the information he hands to others. When I asked about the bond between the crow and the rider he told me it wasn't relevant."

Stark was the contractor to the Seraph Albireo; protector of the gilded mind. As such he was the guardian of the emerald flame; The Seeker as he was called. Some Cherub like herself, were suited to combat while others possessed different capabilities. Stark was the latter of the two. His Cocyuutus, _Imperius Veritas_, had the power to read the past thoughts and events of the ones he sought information from requiring only the name of its target. He could also analyze the structure and abilities of any spell given that he knew its name.

He wasn't powerful in a warrior's sense but he was formidable for his abilities to gather information. _Imperius Veritas _is a dangerous treasure in the wrong hands considering its room for abuse was immense. But Seraphim were wise beyond imagining. A Seraph would never contract with a human they believed would use their powers for deviant purposes. Albireo had chosen correctly with Xing Stark, a man who guarded his powers well. Out of their group, he was the eldest and the most knowledgeable.

_And the biggest pervert I've had the misfortune to meet…_

"We're here Sonia," she heard her paramour state. As though in waiting for their arrival, a tremendous aura had made itself known to the two Cherubim that had just entered town. Nathaniel moved as quickly and quietly as he could into the area. She could sense Stark, and some other being. She assumed (hopefully) Violet had concealed her remaining aura. But the strongest of the group were two men on horseback, the likes of which she had never seen. She gulped when she realized they were _right outside Stark's door_.

One of them was a considerably large character with a broad, demonic looking, sword strapped to his back. He was heavily armored and the ornate design of the steel was as every bit as morbid as his sword. She couldn't see his face, for he wore a red cowl over his head. But even that didn't hide the burning white eyes with a halcyon blue glow, or the white hair that streamed from the cloth. The other's face was obscured as well by a metal mask that for some unnerving reason, reminded her of the bone mask her previous assailant adorned. Except his hair was in spikes that were almost similar to Nathaniel's. Not hung over his shoulder in greasy black locks like Death's. Yellow eyes with no iris or pupil peered from the hollows of the steel façade. She could see instead of a sword he had two guns strapped to his legs. Each of which had four massive barrels. She wouldn't bet a hand, but maybe a few fingers those two monstrous pistols had magical properties attached to them.

Obscured faces aside, it was their otherworldly mounts that gave them away. From what Nathaniel had told her earlier about Death, Sonia already had a pretty good idea of who she was looking at.

_Are you fucking kidding me?! Wasn't one bad enough?!_

* * *

Unbeknownst to her, hidden away in some cramped, and forgotten old attic, with a smelly, familiar, was one seriously irritated Violet Anapest. She was out of the action, when she could sense she would be needed most. Nathaniel would be fine, but Sonia was weakened severely and Stark wasn't a fighter. Gritting her teeth, a stream of thought kept running through her head that comically enough, matched the exact thoughts of the two Cherubim outside to the letter:

* * *

_This is bullshit!_

* * *

"_Phantom Horses are different than regular horses anywhere across the fabric of this Universe in a great many ways, but there's only one that's truly important. That is they were born incomplete. Each mount you young ones see are but half a pair. Their great power is released from within when they find one to call a companion. Their flesh, bone, sinew, down to their very souls is but a reflection of themselves and their rider. This is what separates them from regular steeds and makes them the strongest of mounts in all of Creation."_

_The Horsemaster had said this to the four, soon to be riders as they stood outside the gates of the great steeds within them. Whether any of the two-legs were aware of it or not, one steed amongst the uncaring herd, listened intently with great disdain. _

_Not only did he disagree with the Horsemaster's statement, he resented it greatly. Why did his power and visage half to be dependent on another, especially a two-legged creature? For many centuries his kin had suffered a great deal at the hands of the two legs. Angel, demon, or old one, they were all the same evil to him. The Horsemaster had been different, granted. He understood the once nomadic race's wishes for a home, for freedom and protection against all that would try to enslave them for their powers. He gave them the Far Fields and protected them, but for a price, in this instance. As powerful as the Horsemaster was, he could not defy the will of the Council, and if they wanted four horses for these creatures, then so it would be. _

_Mentally, the steed told himself these __**Nephilim **__as they were called, would be no different than any of the two-legers from before. In fact, they could be worse, considering they were of angelic and demonic origins. If any of them should so much look at him funny, it would be centuries before the hoof indentations were removed from their skin, assuming they were still alive of course. _

_Apparently one of the four had missed the memo. _

_He screamed he kicked and bucked and ran as fast as he could, even slamming the Nephilim into the iron gates of the fence for good measure. But the little prick just wouldn't relent. He was worse than the flies the horse would swat away with his tail only to return again for more. _

_And when he was worn, and could fight no more against the being still atop his back, he had felt it. That feeling that sunk low into ones chest between the devil and the deep blue sea. From that feeling a connection was formed with the Nephilim above. That binding feeling shared between both mount and rider would mark him henceforth and give him his name. _

_Despair…_

* * *

As time passed through the years, the fearsome pale steed had come to call his rider his partner. They were bonded: not through their light, but in their shadows. He came to respect that bond and the one he was bound too. But now, once more, the great steed had felt that dreadful feeling again. His companion was suffering, and so was he in worry for him. He beckoned himself to his rider's side.

Death was on his face in the ground and the steed could almost swear he saw the thinnest sheen of sweat coat his cadaverous skin. Despair feared the worst. The more and more he studied his rider's ailment, through his senses and their bonds his worry had evaporated. He would not die. He would be weakened but he would survive.

What Despair had to do now was get his companion to a more prudent location that didn't leave him and his still powerful aura as exposed to any oncoming enemies.

It was then that amber eyes slowly opened and the horse gave a soft whine in greeting. Despair was right; he was weakened, but otherwise alright and would recover in a few days. He kneeled down and his rider climbed almost sluggishly onto his back. Despair began to trot as firmly and quickly as he could with his fatigued partner just barely holding onto him.

His rider was the strongest of the four for a reason. He wasn't one to show affliction to even the most forceful of physical attacks. But this wasn't a physical attack. It was an internal one. It cut not into flesh or bone, but into mind and soul. The horse could feel that much from him and from their bond.

* * *

_Inge Natura Renovatur Integra_

Eons ago, when the first of the Cherubim had died for the sins of mankind, that was Shahaer's prophecy to all in Creation. Shahaer, one of the three Seraphim that were called , the golden flames of guidance, had since then hibernated deep within the most sacred realm of The Third Kingdom.

Azazel would see that prophecy come true.

Imprisoned upon the chains of Duduael for centuries within the Abyss, he answered the clarion call for chaos and bloodshed just as the Seraphim had answered their contractors in their call for power. Though it did not free him, it gave him a morbid sense of hope for such.

Long before the younglings in Creation had come to call the realm he was left to rot in the Abyss he had been there. He had been there so long he and its depths shared a unique bond. When the Nephilim had fed the Abyss the worlds they destroyed, it grew powerful, and so did he. But it wasn't enough; not nearly enough to break the chains of Ananke. So he would wait.

Like an open sore untreated, the world began to fester more and more as it hungered for more realms to swallow and devour. When the Nephilim conquest was halted, and its supply of worlds was stopped it grew evermore restless in its gluttony. And so he gave his power and knowledge to the realm so that it may satisfy its lust for decay and free him from his prison.

The Abyssal Riders.

He would have his revenge on the whole of Creation.

_Inge Natura Renovatur Integra _

_By Flames will the Earth be reborn. _

_**To Be Continued…**_

**A/N: Long ass chapter aside, you folks know the Drill:**

**Please Review, Fav, or Follow. It's a good sign of whether I'm delivering the story as well as I should be for my Readers. Plot aside a story is nothing without a sufficient narrative and I'm taking some risks with using OC's that could damage the quality of the story if I'm not pulling this off right. **

**Pulvis et Umbra Sumus is a latin Maxim for "We are but Shadows and Dust"**

**Any how the name of the Chapter is derived from the poem in the beginning. I love poetry and I found it fitting for an intro. Many names and terms mentioned are derived from Latin and all kinds of mythology. If you are curious of the references leave me commentary so I may explain their origins. That is, if you're a total nut for this stuff like me**

**:] **

_**Animefreak114 Clocking Out!**_


	6. Machinations of the Void

**A/N: Well here it is folks. The moment of truth: WARNING**

**Long ass chapter…**

**Serious Plot development in this one…**

**Will enthrall or outrage many readers…**

**Long A/N at the end so the review note goes here: Leave me some form of commentary that'll tell me by the end of this monster if I'm to take a bow or to start ducking…**

**I do not own Darksiders I or II or any references to other works. Period.**

**Hang onto your asses and enjoy :)**

_Death was one of the Firstborn. He didn't bleed, he didn't eat, and he didn't need to sleep. Any sleep he had ever been in wasn't one that came naturally, but one that was forced by an outside party. Which is why he knew…_

_Something was shuffling through his head…_

_It was a clever trick indeed to try to use the depraved auras of the Riders he and that Cherub had fought to work its way into his mental defenses. He idly noted that was more than likely why he was affected and not the girl…_

_Why target him though?_

_Since the incident with Mortis, Death had focused the bulk of his magic on his mental barriers. The last thing he needed was yet another outside force trying to slither into his conscious for whatever insidious reasons may be… _

_And how the efforts were paying off now…_

_While the being in question managed to knock him under with its constant attacks upon the barriers on the edges of his mind, that's all it had managed to do. It had neither broken into his psyche, nor stolen anything it sought within._

_He could sense the creature's frustration in its futile attempts. Death used the lapse in concentration the thing's irritation had caused to probe its own mind in response. This had led to a mental confrontation between himself and his mental assailant. _

_From the image his mind produced of this being, Death got the sense this was one of the Abyssal Riders, or some sort of Abyssal creature. It sported the same rotten aura and decrepit form. The shadow-esque adornment was present as well, but did not cover as much as it had the Riders he had previously fought. There was no hood, but at the same time there looked to be no actual head or face upon this foe._

_Its only defining facade was the armor upon its head that looked like neither angel or demon or any creature he had seen before. No eyes, no mouth, no nose or ears, only the armament gave it any facial features. _

"_**Who're you" **__Death demanded in a low voice. _

"_**Creation is terribly boring while alive, wouldn't you agree Pale Rider of Death? Always those tiresome questions: What are you? Who are you? What do you want? I have no name."**_

"_**And no sense of common courtesy either it would seem," **__Death responded with a mock cheerful voice. He could rarely resist the call of a sarcastic remark._

"_**Speak for yourself Horseman. Who I am is unimportant to me. What all call me when I cross their paths is the Witch King of the Fallen."**_

_So it was a lord of the Abyssal Riders he had fought eh…_

"_**Why are you in my mind then **__my lord__**" Death questioned with a sardonic emphasis on the title and a bow in blatant mockery. **_

"_**You posses information I desire, Horseman. That my master desires as well. I will have it one way or another."**_

"_**Is your master the one who unleashed you upon the Third Kingdom?"**_

"_**Yesss," **__was the diabolical slither the horseman received. He resisted the urge to shudder as it echoed through the outer caverns of his mind. _

"_**Is this master the Guardian of the Azure Flame?" **_

"_**Of course not, rider. That mage of the flame was merely a pawn. A gear within our machinations. Now she is our prey. Now, so are you…" **_

"_**What do you want with her…" **__It was not a question, but a demand. _

"_**What we want from the rest of the Cherubim, but you needn't know that much…not yet."**_

"_**Why would you tell me this information?"**_

_He could feel the connection starting to fade as the Witch King began to retreat from his mind. The thing actually chuckled at his question._

"_**I would never tell you anything that would impede our plans Pale Rider. Violet Anapest is a victim of circumstances. You can tell your Council or the White City or even the Dukes of Hell and it wouldn't matter. Everything would still proceed according to plan."**_

_Then the voice of the Witch King was gone, and Death had awoken from his slumber._

* * *

_And just what in the seven circles of hell is up with __**this **__situation…?_

Violet stuffed in a cupboard, completely helpless and he didn't have time to enjoy that scenario.

Sonia Belmond with a priceless expression between thunderstruck, worry and irritation with a Nathaniel Reever in front of her. His weapon, _Ensis Exorcizans** _was more than ready for a fight.

Topping it all _three of the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse were now present within the area. _Two of which would probably cause all kinds of hell if he didn't handle the situation properly.

Xing Stark had seen many things in his lifetime and just when he thought he couldn't be any more shocked…

_Life with the fucking party…_

The only upside to this cluster fuck was that the residents of the town had fled or retreated into their homes in fear of the two vagabonds that had just made an entrance. Stark didn't blame them for their fear. This wasn't an encounter he was looking forward to. He pushed his shades further up the bridge of his nose in a nervous habit before moving away from the window and walking outside to greet this new development. In a sign of peace he automatically raised both hands high in front of his body.

"Easy now fellas, I know what you're here for. I can assure you she's alright! And for the love of all unholy Nate, put that thing away before you poke someone's eye out!"

He was rewarded for his diplomatic efforts with a good view of the business ends of a monstrous four barreled pistol . Idly he noted the spike in Nate's aura and the resounding spike from the other horseman. That would be the one that _wasn't _pointing a gun to his head.

_This is getting uglier and uglier by the minute…_

* * *

"I see no reason to believe you whatsoever, Cherub. Your kind has already given us more than our fair share of troubles. Therefore, you cannot be trusted. What reason do we have not to believe that you lot didn't strike down our sister yourselves. Take her captive, in hopes of trapping the two of us?"

It was Strife who hissed out those words, and War could certainly see a fair point in them. Indeed he had a hard time trusting these creatures. After all, it was one of their own responsible for this mess. His gaze currently focused upon the white-haired boy shielding a female Cherub with a large broadsword in hand. A fierce expression on his grimy face. His own hand found the hilt of Chaoseater and was prepared to strike upon any preemptive movement from either party.

"You would condemn us all for the actions of one," the male Strife currently pointed Mercy at questioned with a raised eyebrow. His eyes were hidden good behind thick shaded spectacles. Already this man seemed off to War. A man's eyes communicated much more than his mouth could, in the horseman's view. A man hid his eyes was a man to be wary of.

"I can assure you we have no such trap planned, horseman. Apparently you also think us fools. Do you honestly believe we'd try to trap the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse and hope to subdue them? Tales of your power do not go untold within the Third Kingdom, and while we are strong, we aren't _that _strong," the child of man stated matter of factly.

Strife narrowed his eyes in suspicion and it was War who spoke up this time:

"Your flattery does not give us reason to ponder the veracity of your words Cherub."

"Indeed it doesn't. But what reason do you have _not _to believe me."

Strife snorted, "Clever tongue you've got on you. That's reason enough for suspicion in my book. Words alone won't get you out of this confrontation; especially not _your _words. Why waste time sorting truth from lie when we can eliminate you, take our sister back, and ask _her_ what's been going on around here."

With that he squeezed the trigger of Mercy. The shot went clean through the Cherub's head and bounced off a barrier surrounding the building behind the fallen creature.

The response from that course of action was instantaneous. The boy charged at War who jumped down from Ruin. The two met mid-sprint where Chaoseater and broadsword were locked blade to blade. The child certainly had some force behind his steel but it wasn't enough to stop War. He could see the perspiration form on the boy's brow as he was pushed back. His small feet dug into the ground with his efforts.

War jumped out of the way, when from behind the boy the female had attempted to lash out at him with an impressive amount of speed. Her energy blade met with the ground. He could feel her aura weaken greatly with that failed attempt at his life. Pressing his advantage, he spun around and in one fluid movement raised Chaoseater high above his head to cleave her in two. His blade was stopped by the boy's broadsword just a foot from the skin of her back. He could hear the steel of his own weapon practically whine in protest at the missed chance for carnage.

The girl didn't waste time skidding out from underneath the two blades that were inches from her flesh. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted her clumsy movements, and could hear her noises of fatigue. She was in no condition to fight. It wasn't in War's nature to best an opponent that had already been weakened by another. Apparently the boy he was having a sword fight with felt the same.

"Sonia get out of here," the boy shouted while countering War's swings.

"Yeah right, and leave you to die?! I don't think so!" She shouted back, he could sense her studying his movements; looking for any opening she could potentially exploit.

"You're in no condition to fight right now!"

"Indeed," Strife had spoken up from watching the three of them. He pointed Mercy at the girl and she froze. Though War wasn't one to pick off the weakest, Strife was another matter.

"You look like you could use a nap little girl. I'll be more than happy to give you one."

"_Don't you fucking dare,"_ the boy snarled. White flame had enveloped his sword and he parried away Chaoseater once more, rushing towards the girl. He probably would've made it in time had the unearthly blades War summoned from the ground, not made him stop his sprint to doge them.

"I am your opponent child," he said darkly as he lunged at the Cherub who jumped out of the way.

"Like hell," the boy snarled when War had once again stopped him from rushing to the aid of his comrade.

The resounding boom of Strife's gunfire was enough to tell him that the girl would no longer be a hindrance upon the battlefield.

"What the hell," was his brother's baffled comment. Confused, War had taken a small window of opportunity to turn his gaze to his brother and saw for himself, the source of his perplexity.

Mercy's bullet had stopped mid dash from its target's cranium. An iridescent wall had surrounded the wounded child, and shattered just after the collision with the steel ball.

"Whew, that was a close one," came a familiar voice from the rooftops.

All looked up to see the Cherub Strife had shot before completely unharmed. The one lying upon the earth with the hole in his bleeding head had shattered to reveal a talisman. It, in turn, had shriveled and burned an emerald flame before turning into ash.

"So in case your attempts to discuss this peacefully had failed you cloned yourself using the magic of that talisman. I'll give you credit for coming prepared Cherub. That was an impressive spell also to escape my notice. However spells like that take energy and are not suited for combat. The fact that you had to use such a spell to evade _one _of my attacks probably means you aren't much of a fighter. It's pretty clear who has the advantage here. This time my shot won't miss," Strife had said, turning the gun from the other and pointing it at him.

"ENOUGH!"

Both War and Strife turned at the voice of their sister in the now open doorway. She held her whip in one hand while the other was on the frame of the door. She looked as tired as the child Strife had almost killed. Like that said child, she refused to show it.

"They speak the truth brothers. It was that Cherub, Xing Stark that had saved me at the time. If they were cohorts to the perpetrator responsible, then they would have surely left me for dead." She pointed to the Cherub upon the roof and he winked at her in response. Idly, War mused it was a good thing the boy was on the roof and not the ground where Fury's whip could lash out to throttle him. He could tell his sister didn't care for his inviting gestures.

"Or they could've been counting on you to think that so they could save their own hides. With this one as clever as he is, I wouldn't put such a machination past him," Strife said in an even tone. He gestured with Mercy to the schemer in question who merely crossed his arms and shot the White Rider a shrewd look.

"Seriously now, are you honestly that mistrustful of others or are you just being plain stubborn," the Cherub responded.

"Don't push me Cherub," Strife growled warningly.

"Cut it out Strife," War growled just as Fury cracked her whip.

"Do the both of you not trust me as your fellow horseman and sister?"

There was a heavy pause and the tension in the area might as well have been a physical presence.

"Don't ask questions you already know the answer to Fury," was War's almost gentle response. Strife merely nodded in agreement before lowering his weapon.

War almost chuckled when he felt the tense auras' of the three Cherubim in the area comically relax and deflate as the tension of the situation had begun to dissipate. The Cherub from above, that Fury referred to as Xing Stark, jumped down from his perch on the roof to land beside the boy and War.

"Well now that we've officially decided not to kill each other, shall we head into my home where we might discuss this quandary in a civil manner?"

* * *

As one of the Firstborn Nephilim Death knew a great many things that could have the potential to devastate Creation should that information fall into the wrong hands. The Abomination Vault and the creation of the Abominations were proof enough of that. It was as he had told Azrael once before:

"_If you live until the last star burns, until the Creator himself has died and petrified away into nothing, you still won't understand how depraved we were."_

Whatever information these Abyssal creatures sought from him could probably mean devastation for the balance, were they to obtain it…

Once again, it seemed as though the advents of his kin and of himself before he had become one of the four, were coming back to haunt him. He had not the time to brood over such a development though. He needed to think up some course of action.

It became imperative to him more and more that he find the Azure Flame and the child from before. Chances were they knew something that he did not. Possibly something that could tell him what exactly these Abyssal creatures wanted from himself and the Cherubim.

When this _Witch King _had claimed it would matter not who he could go to with the information he received, he doubted it was a bluff. If so then why take the risk of divulging precious secrets in the first place? No, that wouldn't make any sense. It had to mean that these beings had, to some degree, infiltrated both the courts of Heaven and Hell. Could they have infiltrated the Council as well? Considering the discussion he had with Panoptos just after his last mission, it wasn't an outright impossibility.

_Angels and demons alike had fought with the Azure Flame just before Eden went to hell. Could it be at the hands of this Abyssal race manipulating both sides from the shadows? If this is so there's a good chance the angels may have a traitor in their midst. One high up in their society. Before pursuing the Azure Flame I'll pay a visit to Azrael and see if he could look into the matter._

Azrael was quite trustworthy in Death's eyes. He had doubted that the angel would collaborate with these forces. Still, he didn't have to tell him _everything _he had known. Not yet anyway.

A dismayingly familiar aura caught the attention of the rider and he let out an exasperated sigh upon figuring out whom it belonged to.

_Humph…think of the devil and he shall surely appear. _

And so he did. Not minutes after Death picked up on his presence did the shadowy _errand boy _for the council arrive within the cavern Death had been resting and thinking in, with a slow, deliberate shake of its nine-eyed head.

"Tsk, Tsk, Tsk Death. To think you would have so much trouble with a few simpering little girls…"

"I'm hardly in the humor to deal with mockery Panoptos, so if you have something of value to say, then say it or begone," the horseman responded in a low growl that had told the Watcher: _keep pushing your luck and see what happens._

Apparently Panoptos received the memo as his coy attitude dropped through the floor and he hovered away from Death to stay out of Harvester's range.

"I come with a message from the rider of the black horse. She was fatally wounded in her encounter with a shadowy band of riders and is now in the care of a few Cherubim within a town called Ambriosa. Strife and War were already dispatched and have confirmed the safety of the horsewoman."

Under his mask Death's eyebrows furrowed upon hearing that his sister was nearly killed by the riders. If Death had no trouble with them, then Fury should've been fine as well. The exception with Death is that one of their leaders had attempted to contact him during a fight through the decayed auras of its soldiers. But something else weighed on Death's mind even more so…

"I highly doubt my sister would send you here just to inform me of her welfare, Panoptos. Is there something else you aren't telling me," Death asked the watcher in a light voice, with dark undertones of suspicion.

Panoptos's initial response was a light chuckle.

"How clever of you horseman. There is more indeed. When I last went to check on the horsewoman she told me to give you this."

Panoptos procured a black orb with arcane symbols crudely scrawled in its obsidian stone.

"According to the script on the orb it was meant to be given to you."

Death took the orb from Panoptos and immediately it sprung to life. Arcane symbols glowed an ever angrier red and the object burst open. Symbols upon symbols spewed from its depths in a fiery conflagration to form a message that had Death quite visibly stiffen and growl a low dangerous sound in his throat. Harvester was back in his hand before he had even thought of summoning the blade; reacting to the ire of his master.

"_**If you don't come to us soon Pale Rider, then rest assured a visit from us will be in order. Not to you of course, but to your remaining brethren. The longer we wait the more they will surely suffer for your obstinacy…"**_

* * *

Not long after that resolution were introductions made. Upon entering the home of the Cherub Stark did the three Cherubim retreat upstairs to deal with any injuries that needed immediate care. War and Strife on the other hand, had conversed with their tired, but otherwise healthy sister upon the events that had transpired after her encounter with these mysterious riders.

About evening that day did they all regroup downstairs. The boy, Nathaniel, looked the same save for some bandages here and there where War had landed some painful blows. The other, Sonia, looked considerably healthier as some of the color had returned to her face. She had bandages that covered her chest and right shoulder. War could sense from her aura though it would take more time for her to fully recover.

From that time onward Xing Stark had filled in the three horsemen on what he and other Cherubim had gathered from these shadowed assailants.

"Black Riders?"

"Yeah that's what we've been calling them for awhile now. None of us can seem to live long enough in an encounter with them to figure out what they really are. Well, excluding Sonia over there, but she's a knuckle head anyhow and she sucks at information retrieval-!"

Thankfully Stark wasn't sitting near anyone so he didn't have to worry about some bystander getting hit upon accident by the book Sonia had chucked at his head when he dodged it.

"I'll thank you, Xing Stark, to leave any of my perceived shortcomings out of your explanation," She said in an exasperated tone of voice. Sitting between Nathaniel and Fury, she gave him a look that could melt glass.

Strife cleared his throat loudly, though War could see he was somewhat amused by the antics of the two Cherubim.

"Anyhow, their primary target seems to be the Cherubim. A decent number of our kind have already been bested by them and have disappeared since then. I'm personally inclined to believe they were captured and are being used for whatever goals our enemy may have in mind."

"That's disturbing," was Nathaniel's comment.

"On what grounds do you believe your brethren to be useful to these Black Riders," War queried Stark with a stern face.

He gave a bitter smile before responding "You wouldn't be asking that question, rider if you had possessed a better understanding of what we are. The powers of our flames are more than enough reason for those in any realm to hunt us town."

War could find no condescension or vanity with the Cherub's voice. He sounded like a tired old man.

"The Seraphim are incredibly powerful…Too powerful. When one of us makes a contract with a Seraph that said Seraph puts its existence, as well as the bulk of its powers into a hibernation within our bodies. As a result our power is limited. It's an outright impossibility for any human to completely wield the power of these beings. Those who've tried it in the past have met with terrible consequences," he continued.

"Some creatures in this universe you people call Creation may feel like this power that we Cherub are charged to protect is being squandered on the likes of us-"

"And so they try to take it by force is what you're implying," Strife had cut in and the Cherub nodded his way.

"Exactly. It's happened before, so it wouldn't be so much a surprise if it happens again."

"Even one of your own," War questioned looking at him with a dead serious expression to which he mirrored.

"_Especially one of our own_. It's not unusual for a Cherub later on down the road, who possesses the power of one Seraph, to eventually covet them all."

_So it would make sense for the mastermind behind all of this to be one of the Cherubim…_

As if sensing the negativity in War's thought process the young wounded Cherub between Nathaniel and his sister had spoken up.

"Of course that's a possibility. We may be Cherub but to our core we're still human. All humans are susceptible to corruption. But that goes for any other creature with the power of reason as well. It's too easy to blame one of our own for this whole mess rather than looking deeper into it."

"Then what do you suggest child," War had countered. While it was respectable that she felt so loyalty for her fellow Cherub, the naivety in that way of thinking was dangerous. "If you've got another plan then by all means, let's hear it."

She looked at him with a pointed determination in her blue eyes.

"I say we go to the beginning of this incident. Perhaps if we journey to the Garden of Eden we would be able to find the answers we need."

"Impossible," Strife cut in, looking at the child in exasperation.

"Eden has been completely sealed off by whatever chaos had transpired there. All known ways to Eden are shut off. They're all shrouded in a dangerous magic that has already claimed the lives of a few Angel, Demon, and Old One alike that were too curious for their own good. Not even the magics of the Council could dispel it."

War could see the disappointment on her face through her irritated scowl. It was a good idea, but Strife was right. It was around the time that rouge Cherub had caused the damage it had that the garden was sealed off.

"There might be another way."

All eyes in the room turned towards Xing Stark as he held his hand out with the palm facing skyward.

"_Adeat**" _

Upon the command emerald flames had spilled from his palm and overflowed like water which eventually turned into a fair sized Grimmore. Opening by itself, the large magical book began flipping its own pages until it stopped over half way. It projected an image of an arid environment of sun and sand.

"Isn't that the Sahara Dessert," Nathaniel inquired.

"Correct. It is also the entrance to the Arbiter's lair. Better known by you three riders as the entrance to Purgatory," Stark had replied pleasantly.

"Arbiter…?" War spoke up, confusion blatant in his tone.

"Don't tell me you're unaware of what transpired there, horseman? Considering the White Rider over there was the one who put a stop to it," Stark responded and War turned to his brother as did Fury.

"Okay, brother what's this lunatic talking about," Fury voiced.

"It happened a good few centuries after man was cast from the garden," Strife began evenly. "When the basis of human civilization had begun to emerge and the first laws of the Third Kingdom were founded. So that they may maintain a sense of order nine humans who practiced magic had created a deadly prison called Arbiter's grounds. Its highest punishment involved criminals being banished through a portal to another dimension. That dimension was Purgatory. Entrance to Eden or to its darker counterpart was against the laws set by the Creator himself when he banished the first ones from the Garden. While it wasn't an outright issue for the balance the Council did not wish to ignore the Creator's will. Thus I was sent to handle the incident. Now that I think about it, I guess it figures that some of the mages I fought against were Cherubim. Some escaped with their lives intact but the portal was lost and thus it could never be used again. My job was complete."

Strife then rounded on Stark with narrowed eyes and a harsh tone "Spill it Cherub. How do you plan to enter Eden through Purgatory with a portal long since lost?"

Stark smirked, "Not lost rider; _hidden_. It was an unrestricted spell called Orgel that had saved the Portal before you could successfully destroy it. Originally the spell was placed on the thing as a fail-safe. The mages wanted to make sure that none who would use the mirror for evil could ever obtain it. Your trip to the Third Kingdom was proof enough that what those mages were doing was against the will of the Creator; so they activated the spell and hidden it remains. Since that time no one in the Third Kingdom is to touch that Portal. Should they go looking for it, their efforts would be fruitless."

"I suppose you know of some sort of spell or device to bypass this unrestricted spell then," War asked.

"You suppose correct horseman. Should you choose to return to Arbiter you'll need an unrestricted method to lift the one that currently seals the portal away and I do know where to find one such spell."

"If it's at all possible then going to Eden would be ideal brothers," Fury spoke up.

War and Strife turned their gaze to their sister as she continued.

"When the Charred Council first tasked me to investigate the appearances of these Black Riders that's what I wanted to do originally anyway. Even more so when I learned that all ways to Eden were closed. There's got to be something in there our enemy doesn't want us to find out about. If not, then why erect such strong wards in the first place?"

"...Yes, you may have a point sister. Right now it's probably the best option we have in getting some answers," was Strife's thoughtful response. War could tell his brother didn't like wandering around in the dark, but he was right. This was all they had to go on for the time being. The greater risk in the scope things was to do nothing.

He was brought out of his thoughts by a loud cough from his sister. Then one cough turned into another, and another. Fury was practically on her knees by the time it was over. War and Strife rushed to her side. She waved away their attempts to help her (probably for the sake of her pride, was War's guess). She tried to hide it well but the white haired horseman could see the small tremors that were traversing down her body.

"Ugh looks like my purification charm is about to run its course-Sonia, are you recovered enough to lend me a hand? The horsewoman has been stabbed by a cursed blade called _Tenebrae_. I need the power of your flame to neutralize its magic."

"Yeah but I've never used my flame to purify another person before."

"That doesn't matter right now. I can help you with that."

"Will one of you explain what in the name of the Creator is happening to our sister," War snapped, catching the attention of the two Cherubim at Fury's side that at this point was starting to perspire.

"All in good time horseman, right now the welfare of your sister commands my attention. When her condition is stabilized all will be explained."

* * *

The horseman of Death would not belittle himself as to lash out in front of a creature like Panoptos so he had held his anger in as best as he could. His mood did lighten to some degree when he watched Panoptos's eyes widen in fear of the foul mood the horseman had displayed after hearing the message. The watcher quickly scampered off to tell the council of this news like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs.

But as the horseman was left to his lonesome and his thoughts once more that ire had resurfaced.

_How dare they…Who in the name of the Abyss and Oblivion did these beings think they are to threaten __**me with my own brethren!**_

He worried not for the safety of War or Strife too greatly. They were more than capable of handling themselves. Fury was safe for the most part also, despite whatever injuries she suffered. If the Cherubim and his two brothers weren't killing each other then that probably meant they were co-operating. For the time being anyway. The two horseman alone were more than enough protection and the added power of the Cherubim would only add to their formidable force.

What was insulting and impossibly irritating was that someone actually thought they could use the horsemen against one another. It was demeaning, not only to Death but to the others as well.

If anything remotely alive had been in the area (other than his horse) it would've died a very slow, very painful death. However the eldest surviving Nephilim knew a temper tantrum would not solve the current issue at hand. So he made his way once more to the White City.

It was imperative that he'd eventually journey to Ambriosa to pose some questions to his sister and to the Cherubim currently alongside her. But for now he needed to consult Azrael.

* * *

The deeper Azrael had dug into his little investigation the grimmer and more elusive the facts of the matters had become. When he first tried to reach the High Council in the hopes of talking to one such angel who could tell him the name of the one who approached the council, he was rebuffed by Abbadon and the Hellguard. According to the archangel, the High Council had been in an emergency session for sometime after the Sharp-Shooter's escape. They had relayed to the Hellguard that it was imperative they were not disturbed.

It was later on when the scholar had directed his attentions to Eden that he had found out why the council was in such a fuss. A barrier of some sorts had barred the inner sanctum of the realm from the rest of Creation. It was a barrier none of which Azrael had ever seen. It oozed from the realm as a black shadow incarnate and had darkened the rest of the garden in an unnatural twilight. It was as though it were more of an entrance into another realm. Several angels had already been sent at Abbadon's command (much to his discontent) into the shadow, and none have returned.

Worse still Azrael had figured out where this calamity had come from.

It was oozing from a void within the Tree of Knowledge. The tree itself was beginning to wither away and die, ever so slowly. It was beginning to affect the other two trees as well, and more than ever Azrael had feared for the Well of Souls inside.

_Something important was taken from the tree the day that the Sharp-Shooter and those mercenaries had entered the Garden. _

In his quest to for more knowledge on the Tree itself he found himself within one of the highest levels of the library of the Argent Spire. For days he spent pouring over the many histories in hopes to find something that pertained to the current crisis. It was when he had discovered something of incredible importance that he was interrupted by a scribe who told him that one of the four horsemen was awaiting him at the entrance to the colossal tower. Azrael could guess which one it was as he made his way down the winding structure.

"Has anyone ever told you that your timing is impeccable, horseman?"

"Not anyone with breath still in them old scholar," Death chuckled darkly and the angel snorted at the rider's morbid sense of humor.

"Small talk aside, why have you come horseman. Were you able to capture the Sharp-Shooter?"

"Not quite. Upon my pursuit of the little wretch I had come across something mildly disturbing."

Azrael raised an eyebrow at this "Something Death himself finds disturbing? Do tell…"

And so the Horseman told the angel of what had transpired (leaving out the Witch king's statement about the azure flame's innocence, unbeknownst to the Angel of Death).

"So these Abyssal Riders were born from the powers the Abyss obtained when the Nephilim fed them worlds upon worlds. Their primary targets are the Cherubim and now they desire information only known to you? Doubtlessly it's something to do with your life before you became the Pale Rider."

"Pretty much," was Death's light response and the angel's expression considerably darkened.

"How long will the misdeeds of your kin plague us? It's as though even in death the calamity of the Nephilim lives on," Azrael stated. It was Death's composure that darkened this time.

"So it would seem. _Anyhow_, do you have any thoughts on this Angel of Death? From the introduction you gave me earlier I'd say you had discovered something of value upon my arrival."

"Yes I had horseman. It concerns the three Trees but from what you've just told me I'm more than certain these events are connected…

* * *

_What I'm about to tell you horseman has up to this point been little more than speculation on most part, from the many scholars in Creation. It remains more theory than solid fact and perhaps that was for the best…_

_Anyhow, you should be aware that before the Third Kingdom had become what it is today that it was a dying world. No more than a final resting place for the Seraphim who were unable to return to their previous home. Many have speculated that the Creator had chosen to revive the realm other than forge one anew in respect of the Seraphim who had lain dormant within its depths. But that is mere guesswork. It was too presumptuous_ _to assume that much of the Creator himself. _

_When the first ones had dared to consume the fruits of the Tree of Knowledge with explicit instruction not to do so, they were cast out as you know. According to the works I've just read it seems that there was a source of power giving the Tree not only its knowledge, but also its very life-force. That source was a Seraph called Shahaer; the golden flame of guidance. _

_Like in all forms of society the Seraphim were said to have their own hierarchy. Those closest to the Creator himself were called the Stigmata. Three Seraphim in particular were exalted within this inner sanctum. They were said to represent three important aspects of the universe: Creation, Guidance, and Atonement**. Shahaer was one such Seraph. No being, be they Angel, Demon, Old One, or Human, could ever contain the power of a Seraph within the Stigmata. It is my speculation that the tree may have been created to protect the flame itself while keeping its power in check. Hence one reason why the Creator gave explicit knowledge never to take part in the tree's powers. _

_I believe that flame was stolen. It is said among the humans that there was once one such human who attempted to divulge the secrets of the Stigmata so that he may one day wield their powers. He was a madman, and had paid the price for his arrogance: his name was Faustus. He was once a Cherub before he had gone against the wishes of his contractor and was felled by the hands of his fellow Cherubim. _

_In his thirst for power he had developed a fixitation with the Tree of Knowledge. Somehow or other he was able to figure out that the Golden Flame lay inside. It is unknown how he was able to or where he got the knowledge to do so, but he had developed a ritual for retrieving the flame from within the tree. I'm inclined to believe that our enemies had obtained that information, and the ritual had worked…_

* * *

"…Why in the name of the Abyss were the four kept in the dark about this lunatic? If what you say is true Azrael then that would mean this Faustus, before he died, had posed a huge threat to the balance. One the council would have been aware of. So why were none of the four sent to Earth to deal with this matter?"

Azrael could sense the disdain in the horseman's demeanor and he couldn't blame him for feeling that way towards his masters.

"You wouldn't ask me such a question without some idea of the answer, Death. The Council was aware, of that I am certain. If I had to guess the reason they chose inaction was because they wanted to see whether or not the other Cherubim would take the initiative. Whether the Creator had intended it to happen or not, the Seraphim were awakened by the will of man and the Cherubim were born. I'm pretty sure the Council had to verify that these beings, for the most part, posed no serious threat to the balance. Many of them don't as it is. But like any race, especially a younger one, some of its members are susceptible to corruption; especially where the promise of power is involved. Faustus was an example of that."

* * *

As Death processed the information the Angel of Death had given him the proverbial dots in his head had begun to connect.

_The Abyssal creatures are after the Golden Flame at the behest of their master. Someone on the outside had knowledge of the ritual to remove the Flame from the tree and had set up Violet Anapest as their scapegoat. She could very well know the current whereabouts of the Golden Flame and for that knowledge they would need her alive…_

Death knew there was more to this than just what he had gathered currently. Where did he configure into their grand scheme? What was their end goal in all of this? He not only needed to find out more of what was going on. He also needed to solidify what he had currently surmised, thus far.

"Azrael, who else would have knowledge of this information, or at the very least have access to it?"

The angel furrowed his brows "Only the highest of scribes within the Argent Spire would even be able to access this information. Those who actually know more of the matter I would limit to maybe some of the oldest Cherubim and the Keeper of Secrets himself."

"Was there any explicit details concerning the ritual Faustus had invented within the works you were looking at?"

"Yes, it was actually in the one I was just reading before your arrival. Death what are you-!"

Before the angel could finish his question a high pitched shriek had been heard from the uppermost levels of the Spire. It was cut off by a gurgling noise and Death didn't have to feel the snuffed out life to know that the angel was dead. Azrael and Death had traversed through the Spire as quickly as they could and when they reached the scene of the crime, they had stumbled upon a gruesome sight.

A number of angelic scribes were butchered and their remains lay upon the crystalline floor; staining pure white to red. The documents upon the desk had been taken. The perpetrators were nowhere in the area.

But they weren't far. Death could still sense their auras not too far off in the distance. Not wasting anytime he jumped out of a window within the spire and had scaled the structure with an expert physical prowess before reaching the ground and calling forth Despair so that the two may give chase…

* * *

"The documents they had taken," Azrael said in a hoarse voice while looking at the carnage around him. For the first time in awhile he had felt his age. He quickly called an aid to send word to Abbadon of this incident. That was when he noticed a peculiar aura coming from the desk.

In what looked to be written in blood was a message in an ancient human language called Latin.

_Igne Natura Renovatur Integra _

Just as he read the inscription aloud the letters blazed bright before the entire room had been caught within a snare of black flames.

* * *

"You have two choices, angel: You can tell me whose dirty work you're doing or your corpse can."

Emphasizing those words was Harvester's blade pressed dangerously against the scrapper's throat. Death knew that the angel knew he had him cornered. Should the fool so much as flinch the wrong way and his head would no longer be attached to his shoulders.

The angel gulped, looking ready to spill his guts to the horseman and he did…Quite literally in fact. The scribe had been run through by a blade of demonic craft that looked to have been thrown from quite a distance.

Death back flipped out of the danger, grabbing the scrolls the now dead angel had been trying to make off with. He quickly stored them in a safe place before he was surrounded by two or three hordes of demon mercenaries from the looks of them.

Any creature other than Death would've wet their drawers at the odds the Pale Rider now faced (with the exception of his fellow horsemen of course). However in this situation the fear was reversed. None of the marauding merks** had looked to happy to see him and had given him looks that clearly communicated they were expecting someone else.

_Looks like whoever had hired on these hands had messed up…__**bad.**_

Death's bone mask could barely conceal the grin the horseman had sported. Their fear, the fact that someone up top in this scheme had seriously screwed up, and also at the prospect of releasing his pent up anger on the cretins that surrounded him was definitely a turnaround for an otherwise shitty day.

He chuckled darkly and raised Harvester's dual scythes. Mockingly he said to the hesitant crowd before him:

"So who wants some? Come now don't be shy. I won't bite…_much_.

_**To be continued…**_

**A/N: Well there you have it…I've gotta lot of readers whom I think may take Fanfiction a little too seriously. Personally I like to have fun with the story, especially where adventure and Plot is concerned. **

**Several of you may feel like I'm on a path to making a Mary Sue fic and I won't deny that I'm uber aware of this pitfall myself. OC's to me though aren't meant to be the story. They're only there to help it move along. With the way I'm going the only way to pull this off is with OC's but I still gotta be careful. Rest assured no Mary Sue's will be present in this fic. Some characters may have Mary Sue aspects and if so be gentle: I am still learning how to write properly and character development is the hardest part of writing. Especially when thinking of the readers and how they respond to the character. **

**That being said the next few chapters will slow down a little in plot and character development will be a good portion of the chapters to come. Especially with War, Strife, Fury and their interactions with the Cherubim. **

**Now some other notes: **

**Ensis Exorcizans means Sword of Exorcism **

**Adeat in a rough context means Come forth**

**Merk is a nickname for mercenary for those unaware. For further information please consult Riddick **

**Arbiter some might recognize from Twilight Princess: It is my absolute favorite part in the game and it flows so well into this story that I'm going to integrate it. Writing the horseman journeying to the lair will be extremely fun! **

**Faustus some might know derives from Christopher Marlowe's Doctor Faustus. I don't know where the idea came from to use this guy but he's a good example of people who would try to control forces beyond their own in pursuit of power and knowledge. **

**I stared those three terms as a ploy on a text in Greek literature called Hermes Tresmegistus: Literally meaning the "Thrice Great" the three great Hermes who were the center of the universe if memory serves me. I make mention of this because it'll pop up again later in the story. **

**I have a minor in Mythology and have taken more classes than I probably should in Latin and literature. At least in this fic not all of my knowledge has gone to hell. Glad it actually comes in handy!**

**_Animefreak114 clocking out..._  
**


	7. RECAP and PREVIEW of chapters ahead

**For those unfamiliar with my work (no surprise there I've only got two stories including this one) at every 5 chapters or so I do a recap of the story thus far and offer a preview of chapters to come. Yeah I can hear it already: that's stupid. Well it actually helps me better organize my thoughts and it helps out any readers who may not like reading huge chapters and skip over some parts to get to others (Author right here guilty as charged).**

**Besides for those who truly like my story the preview's a good look into chapters to come. It's also a way to torture you as well :) Those who wish to stick around for this little intermission are welcome to do so but if you feel it unnecessary then you aren't really missing out on anything important **

**Recap Start:**

_**Cherubim are the results of a humans contracted with Seraphim (speculated as the first race of the Creator by scholars). In exchange for a source of power beyond their own, they are charged to protect the flame within them to the best of their abilities. But like all creatures they are bound by the laws of the Council and the Balance. The Cherub of the Azure Flame, Violet Anapest was found guilty of all but destroying Eden and causing the chaos that now plagues Creation. When she escapes from the Towers of Atonement the horseman Death is sent by the Council to retrieve her. **_

_**Upon pursuing the Azure Flame did Death find himself within a scrap between the mage responsible for breaking her out. A Cherub by the name of Sonia Belmond who guards a crimson flame, and who had also abducted Dust with the intention of getting information from him. Their battle is interrupted by a band of "Abyssal Riders" as Death calls them. With the Pale Rider as their primary target (unbeknownst to Sonia) they succeed in knocking Death out as a result of their master using their auras in an attempt at a mental attack. **_

_**Meanwhile Sonia, badly wounded, barely escapes her confrontation with Death. She sets out for a town called Ambriosa, which is where Violet fled to with Dust, with her paramour and fellow Cherub Nathaniel Reever. Upon arriving in Ambriosa are they confronted with the horsemen War and Strife, who seek out their wounded sister at the behest of the Charred Council. Fury, who was badly injured during her fight with the Abyssal Riders by a mysterious blade called Tenebrae, is saved by Cherub Xing Stark and intervenes on his part when War and Strife assault him and the other two Cherubim (Violet meanwhile is stuffed in a closet somewhere hidden throughout the whole ordeal with Dust and stays that way for the duration of the chapter). Upon calming down do both Cherubim and horsemen devise a plan to reach Eden through Purgatory via a portal to the realm in Arbiter's Lair located within the Sahara Dessert. Shortly after that decision Fury begins to suffer strange attacks as the magic of Stark's spell gives way to the evil within Tenebrae's magic. **_

_**Elsewhere Death and his mental assailant face off in a confrontation within the horseman's mind. The self proclaimed—Witch King of the Fallen desires information the horseman possesses in the interest of him and his master. He also reveals to the horseman that he and his brethren seek something from the Cherubim (their flames) and Violet Anapest was no more than a pawn in their plot. His further words allude to the horseman that there is a traitor within the midst of the White City, the lands of Hell, and quite possibly within the Charred Council. Just as he's about to head to the White City to consult Azrael with this information is he stopped by Panoptos who gives a message from the Abyssal Lord to the rider that unless he confronts them soon, his brethren will pay the price…**_

_**Azrael has become concerned with possible treachery within the White City and the chaos occurring in the Tree of Knowledge (namely how its affecting the other two trees and the Well of Souls). In his search for answers he uncovers old tales concerning the birth of the Third Kingdom, the Cherubim, and the history of the Seraphim. How the tree of Knowledge depended on a special flame and how the Creator allegedly did what he could to protect its power. Even going so far as to banish the First Ones from the garden when they partook of its power and gifts. He reveals to Death, when the horseman tells him of his misadventures, that the Abyssal beings seek Shahaer's Golden Flame of Guidance which was taken from the tree and had allegedly disappeared afterward (A/N: yeah the Abyssal Creatures don't have the flame..If I didn't make that clear then yeah that's my bad). Death comes to the conclusion that the Azure Flame may be a valuable clue in locating the missing flame. Just as he's about to voice his thoughts on an informant within the White City the Argent Spire suffers an attack in which the said informant (who was a high ranking scribe) steals the info Azrael looked over and kills all in the room. Death goes to pursue the cretin while Azrael discovers an ancient Latin inscription upon the desk that ignites the room in a black flame.**_

_**In the Abyss chained to the rocks of Duduael, is Azazel. Hinted as a helper in the Creation of the Abyssal beings and current master of their legions. He convinces the Abyss to use its newfound power from the Nephilim rampage to create its own emissaries in order to further its desire for more worlds to consume and more power to gain so that he may break free from his imprisonment and use the power of the Abyss to sew his revenge on all of creation and the Seraphim who had helped to imprison him. For some unknown reason he desires information only Death possesses and may have (somewhat spoiler here) used the circumstances to not only draw out the Cherubim but also the Pale Rider himself… **_

**Recap Ended…**

_**Now onto the Previews!**_

"_Horseman I fear that without the Golden Flame the Tree of Knowledge will wither and die, should that happen the others would suffer as well. The trees are not only wise beyond imagining but are also portals to other worlds. If the Abyssal beings control the trees, then not only can they somewhat regulate travel between dimensions, they can also reach the Well of Souls which contains incredible power. We must return the Golden Flame to the tree or all of Creation will be in peril."_

_It was imperative more than ever that Death travel to Ambriosa. Whatever the Azure Flame knew of the incident needed to come to light, and quickly lest she be found by the Abyssal beings first…_

* * *

"_If the Cherubim really are being targeted by these Black Riders as you say, then I'd imagine it'd be more than ideal for them to target Ambriosa first, should they not only discover a good gathering of Cherubim, but our sister as well. Fury and the others can take care of themselves for the time being but we should hurry back as quickly as possible," was Strife's even comment though his brother could vaguely make out undertones of worry._

"_No need to worry on that horseman. We actually have more time than you think," was the boy's response. War held back a chuckle as he watched the boy stumble to get the sand out of his shoes. _

"_How so?"_

"_Yeah we Cherubim may have targets on our back, but some have bigger targets than others. If anything they'll start with the Archmages before they work their way down to small fry like the rest of the Cherubim." _

"_Yeah that's true enough. Even though I've dealt with issues concerning human mages before, I never studied up on the lore. That must've slipped my mind."_

"_Are the Archmages really that strong," War inquired. _

_The boy, who was now hopping on one foot to avoid contact with the hot sand upon his skin, stuttered a bit before responding. _

"_Well not as strong as you guys I'm sure, but pretty damn close. That and they're the oldest of us. Me, Sonia, Violet, and Stark are pretty well known ourselves but compared to the Archmages? Pfffft."_

* * *

"_That's the bastard who got me the last time," Was the horsewoman's huffed response. A shadowed creature, not unlike the Abyssal Riders stood before the two women flanked by two others that looked more like knights themselves. As far as Fury could tell they were still Abyssal beings. The stink of their Aura was unmistakable._

"_I'm impressed you managed to pull through horsewoman after a stab from this mighty blade. You live up to your title as a rider of the apocalypse. However. I've got a title as well. Once I know of a mistake it isn't a mistake any longer."_

_Fury smiled a wicked smile "Well that makes two of us then, oh so high and mighty Abyssal Lord of the Fallen." _

_She turned towards her current partner "Listen Cherub, I'll take the asshole in the middle while you handle the two lackeys on the side. If you get through with them quick enough then you can cover me but I'll finish this guy with my own two hands, got it?"_

"_You think you can handle it?"_

_Fury scoffed "I am Fury, Rider of the Black Horse and one of the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse. You tell me."_

_The Cherub gave her a smug grin "Understood my lady horseman. Oh and my name isn't Cherub—Its Sonia Belmond."_

_With that the fight began…_

* * *

"_Who do you think you're fooling with that aura, again? The others may be weary from battle but I am not. Come out Cherub, otherwise I'm inclined to take your stealth as a potential act of aggression."_

_As if to emphasize his point, Death had summoned a tempest of bone and launched it in the direction the source of the energy was coming from. _

_He didn't expect it to rebound at him. Though he'd be damned if he let his own spell harm him. As effortlessly as he called the spell forth did he banish it away, much to the shock of his sister and the Cherubim behind him._

"_To think you could brush off your own magic so lightly, you really do live up to your name, Pale Rider. I thought I sensed your aggressive aura when I entered the city, and hence my heartfelt need for caution."_

_A hand quite literally stabbed itself through the area Death had attacked and soon a body followed. _

_**An illusion. A good one at that. It's not the same as Azrael's and lacks the fluidity his magic possesses but it's still the same level of magic.**__**Had I not been exposed to the angel's magic, finding this Cherub may have proven considerably more difficult.**_

_An old man emerged from the spell. Dressed in a suit and dress pants both a faded grey (with the exception of the tie being a bright red) he looked to be in his sixties with a grey mustache and a wrinkled face. In one of his two gloved hands rested a cane with an ornate design of a Dragon's head. It looked more like a staff. Most of his brow was hidden by a faded grey fedora hat that looked well kept, but aged. _

_He turned his gaze from the horseman to the other Cherubim; particularly the wounded Azure Flame Sonia was helping with Stark. _

"_As always at the center of chaos do I find you lot. The Seeker, the Sharp-Shooter and the Belmond child, though your little group is missing some members. And also as per usual you keep some dangerous company," he addressed the Cherubim who looked back at him warily. _

"_Your eyes must be failing you Cherub. In case you haven't noticed this is no time for small talk. If you've got a good reason for being here then I suggest you voice it because my already abused patience is about gone. Speak unless you want me cleaning your remains off Harvester, and believe me, that's a task more unappealing to me than you," Death responded dangerously with a hand on Harvester's hilt. _

_The Cherub chuckled "I very much doubt that my lord horseman but you're right. This is no time for idle conversation. I am here at the behest of the Golden Flame you now seek, for it calls to me as it does to the strongest of the Cherubim. My name is Merlin, my contracted Seraph is Clotho; First of the three psalms of Moriae. I am known to my kind as the Archmage of the Amber Flame."_

"_As one such Cherub it is my duty to aid you in the return of Shahaer's Flame."_

* * *

"_**You are as much a calamity in this world as I. Sooner or later your masters will see that, Pale Rider. You are a Forger of Weapons as I was. The moment you created the accursed Abominations along with the other Firstborn is when you became a Paragon among those in your kind. A being who can forge is own weapon, and the weapons of others, is a being who forges his own fate and forevermore changes the destinies of those touched by them . It is a cycle of chaos that began when I forged the Shadow Lords from the mutilated souls of the fallen Seraphim. It had passed onto the second Shadow Lord when she created the accursed Magia Erebea whose evil magic has claimed many souls through the eons. It had passed to the Demoness Lilith who created a race, not of angel or demon but stronger than both. When the Abominations were born by your hand that cycle passed onto you. And you are damned for it."**_

* * *

"_In his quest for knowledge, Faustus the Fallen, had conjured up an ancient being neither angel nor demon and had obtained from him Ananke's Aria: a powerful binding spell that can repress some of the most omniscient beings in creation," the Crowfather explained._

"_The creature in question is one of the Seraphim who defected to the Dark Lord's side. He was banished by the Creator to the depths of the Abyss bound by the very same magic he created. His name is Azazel: and unto him we ascribe all sin…"_

_**Preview Ended:**_

**For the smart cookies among my readers who can guess where this story is going, kudos to you cause I can barely keep up with the plot myself, and I'm the nut job who thought the damn thing up. Well what do you think? Sorry for the grammatical gimmicks I'm not bothering with run-ons in the preview and this is a rough outline of the Chaos to come so some of this won't be word for word in the chapters ahead. **

**Anyhow this story is sorta Death-centric. Especially towards the end but there will be plenty of roles for the other three as well. Review and tell me if the recap is a good enough explanation or just comment on what you think of the plot you've seen in the story thus far. I'm taking a small break in writing in light of college and since I promised character development I need to think a little for that so you guys get the treat you deserve and not some one-dimensional fic that could've been so much more.**

**If you guys have any good thoughts or criticisms on that aspect please let me know and do so gently. **

_**Animefreak 114 Clocking Out!**_


	8. READ ME THE SECOND !

**So have you ever left your own writing idle for a few days then came back to it and re-read everything only to go-**

**WHAT THE FUCK?! **

**Well that's kinda what happened here: I looked back at my story and was really displeased when I read chapter four. It was just so..ugh badly written in plot terms and fight scenes. So I rewrote it. If you were one of the readers dissatisfied with the chap like me then please go back and check it out. **

**Leave a comment to let me know whatcha think…helps the writing. **

**Also sorry to re edit once again but that does happen a lot and even more so with your own fiction…Scott Fitzgerald re wrote a lot of the Great Gatsby several times before he was somewhat satisfied.. **


	9. The Price of Power

_**A:N—Back from the dead! Nah not really, this chapter just took WAY too long, and ended up being much bigger than I thought it would be. I'm not too satisfied with it and I think the interactions between the horseman and Cherubim are a little uncreative on my part (and somewhat shallow). **_

_****No I don't own Darksiders I or II or any other references to other lore **_

_**Let's crack on shall we?**_

* * *

_Flashback:_

_Mana, Wrath, Arcana… Throughout the realms of the universe it's been tagged with many different names, but its definition remains one and the same._

_Impossibility given form… _

_The ultimate source of all magic in creation…_

_Each individual realm had its fair share of the raw substance within its terrains. In its purest form its value was priceless. Merchants scoured the worlds to buy and sell for its power and its abundant usefulness. _

_Some beings in creation were lucky, though (if one could truly say that). They were born with a source of mana within their very bodies, and thus had an inherent talent for magical arts. It was these individuals that would rise to become true Magi. _

_Never had the White Rider anticipated finding such creatures within the Third Kingdom. When the Creator banned the first ones from Eden he sealed off the mana of this realm. Never again were humans to tap into the sacred power of magic again. Yet here he stood on the canyons of judgment overlooking the unnatural lush valleys of the Arbiter's Grounds. _

_Tasked to hunt the same human magi that weren't even supposed to exist… _

_He was over thinking things. It wasn't an outright impossibility that these Nine Eternal Divine Scales of World Order were in fact receiving help from some angel or demon looking to manipulate humanity for their own purposes. It wouldn't be a first. Humans were just __**so gullible **__when it came to affairs that extended beyond their own world. _

_The horseman mentally reprimanded himself from getting so divergent from the task at hand. _

_Sleepless gold eyes repeatedly scanned over the entirety of the area; assessing every aspect he could find from enemy territory. The sheer amount of mana flowing from the valley was incredible. It poured not from the magi whom resided within the land, but from the land itself. He was briefly reminded of the forge lands. The realm of the makers that from border to border was rich with mana. The raw magic was so potent in that realm, it had brimmed with life. There was neither a dessert nor piece of earth in that world without lush vegetation and wildlife who fed from it. Such places were scarcely found throughout the rest of creation; especially within the Third Kingdom._

_**Not since Eden anyway. **_

_However the White Rider was neither awed nor deceived by the beauty of the jungle before him that stretched on for leagues and leagues. Mana created jungles beheld some of creation's rarest and deadliest creatures. Animals and plants alike that harvested the surplus of mana from the environment lie deep within. That was excluding whatever traps the human magi had in waiting for any intruders. _

_Strife jumped high off the canyon's edge and into the waiting chaos below._

* * *

Cherubim were Vagabonds. Whereas most of humanity nowadays scarcely called more than one country or region home, they had no such luxury. Maybe it was because a Cherub could live long enough to travel the entire world. Or maybe it was because of their agelessness that they could never stay in one place for too long.

Even so Nathaniel Reever had never set foot into the terrains of the Sahara Dessert, until now that is…

He hated the Middle East for a variety of reasons. He had been through the region once when traveling upon the Silk Road some decades ago and that was more than enough. The heat was hell, and the sand got in everything. As an albino his skin and eyes were highly sensitive to the sun so he had to cover up to avoid its heated glare.

The sensation of sweat running down the many slopes and crevices along his body was hardly pleasing to the boy. He felt as though a multitude of tiny insects were roaming over his figure. The only time when he didn't mind the feeling was when he was with Sonia. He paid little mind to it in favor of the girl below or atop him…

The heat on his cheeks intensified as his train of thought began its journey down a more dangerous track. He shook his head to rid himself of such thoughts before they affected him further.

_Damn you woman, slithering into my head when I'm traveling with two of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. _

His gaze slid over to the two horsemen not but a few paces in front of him who paid him little mind. Since their arrival they've had to travel upon foot. Ancient and powerful wards had prevented the riders from calling their otherworldly mounts. Use of mana or any form of magic was greatly inhibited within this forsaken wasteland.

Still they had walked two days from sunrise to sunset and unlike their companion, they hardly broke a sweat over the arid terrain.

_Damn they really are something else. Even with all that armor and gear on, they can walk around in a place like this with no issues for days. _

He though, had no such luck. A few more hours into the early night would they have to stop so he could catch his breath and regain some strength. A notion that hardly pleased them but it couldn't be helped…

* * *

_Flashback:_

"_**That will not be necessary Cherub. I have been to Arbiter's grounds before. Even though the years have passed since I last set foot within that terrain, I still know the way to the inner sanctum of the prison."**_

_The White Rider had spoken to Stark with an air of disdain in his voice that conveyed insult at the very notion of a Cherub accompanying him and his brother. Nathaniel hardly empathized, but he didn't like the idea of having to split up at such a dire time. Sonia was still recovering from her fatigue and wounds, the horsewoman needed rest all the same, and Violet was still useless at the time. _

_With the other two horsemen on their way, most of the protection would fall to Stark and Nathaniel. That was at least until the other two could regain their strength. Could they afford to stay in one place for two to three days when God knows what could be after them all? _

_And now there was this development…_

"_**Ah my lord horseman, since your last visit millennia ago Arbiter's Grounds has much changed. It is not the rich valley you once knew. Aside from that, the magics that veil the area are ancient sorceries not seen in Creation for eons. The unrestricted spell used to lift the Orgel upon the portal is the same spell that will open up a path to the heart of the prison. It is of Cherub origin thus the only beings capable of casting the spell would be one of us."**_

"_**Figures," **__came the sardonic reply of the horseman Strife. _

"_**I trust you'll be able to defend yourself properly then, should we encounter trouble on our way there, Cherub?"**_

_It was War who spoke up this time from the corner of the room by the door. Stark sighed and shook his head._

"_**Sadly my skills in direct combat are lacking, hence I will be unable to assist you. Besides I must maintain the wards here upon my home, at least until Sonia and the Horsewoman have recovered. I will get you into the edge of the Grounds and from there the two of you and Nate over there should be able to use the spell to get into the prison where the portal is."**_

_Had Nathaniel not made prior arrangements with Stark beforehand he would've no doubt protested the decision. He could not afford to leave them at a time like this. But between him and Sonia he had no choice. Sonia was out of the question for various reasons. _

"_**So be it then. It's his life after all. Neither my brother or I will be responsible for the fate of the boy." **_

_Nathaniel twitched at that; figures the horseman of Strife would be the more irritating of the two. _

"_**I am a Cherub rider. We fight to protect our flame with our lives as collateral. While I'm truly honored to have your concern please know it is quite unnecessary."**_

_Nathaniel replied with a heavy dosage of sarcasm present within the tone of his voice and a patronizing smirk on his face. From the corner of his eye he saw Strife's hand twitch for his gun. War snorted and Stark rolled his eyes, but it was Sonia who broke the ridiculous tension in the room with a comment that had Nate fighting to keep the flush off of his expression. _

"_**Nate quit clowning around and behave will you? This is hardly the time for a pissing contest." **_

_Strife snickered, and Stark was quick to cut in before the white haired Cherub could puff up a storm. _

"_**Well gentlemen the sun has risen and with that I shall open up a way to the Grounds. The sooner we get this started the sooner we get our answers, no?"**_

_End Flashback_

* * *

It was late at night when they made their camp within the Ahhagar Mountains deep within the dessert. They were a little less than a day away from the prison. War wished to keep pushing but understood that their guide would need rest. It didn't irk him too greatly as they had proceeded this far with little complication. The boy seemed to know what he was doing. Conversation during the journey was sparse as each individual was deeply immersed in his own thoughts.

Uncharacteristically, it was War who broke the silence.

"Something troubles you brother."

He had noticed Strife acting on edge and more guarded than usual. Even now his brother stared intently off into the barren terrain, not looking back to him in his response.

"This world is strange. I've always thought so. This place especially, still puzzles me. It carried a presence I've only ever felt once when you and I fought side by side within the gardens of Eden. Even now when it's a barren wasteland it still holds that stifling charisma. The Third Kingdom is by far the youngest of worlds in all of Creation. Yet with places like these scattered throughout its lands, and the emergence of the Cherubim, I can almost perceive the shadow of a bi-gone age looming over this realm."

Strife's observation reminded War of the blade singing within the space of his gauntlet in a diabolical language he couldn't fathom…

* * *

_Flashback:_

"_**Christ Sonia, you look like hell."**_

"…_**I'm flattered Nathaniel."**_

_The child's attempt at sarcasm backfired completely in the wake of her exhaustion. Not a few minutes prior was she almost beginning to regain her strength, and now she could hardly keep her eyes open. Sweat evident on her brow, glued her hair to her face which was lit with an unhealthy pallor. The bruises under her eyelids looked none less menacing._

_She was being helped onto an empty bed by the boy while the other Cherub, Stark, had walked over to a small study within the same room and collapsed on the chair. Pulling a cloth from within his pocket he dabbled at the small beads of sweat on his face before leaning forward in his chair to regard the two horsemen who were checking on their extremely worn sister. _

"_**She'll be fine lord Horsemen. Granted she'll be in need of serious rest for a few days, I can say with certainty that her life is no longer in danger." **_

_Strife turned to regard the Cherub with an unfriendly look._

"_**You've got a world of explaining to do Cherub. Now I might add." **_

_War turned his gaze from his sister in waiting for the Cherub to answer back. Stark sighed roughly squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose. _

"_**It would be easier if I showed you first."**_

_Once again he summoned that Grimmore to his side. But instead of opening it, he pulled out one of the paper tabs sticking out from the book. Looking closer War could see the seal and runes upon the paper that identified it as a talisman. The Cherub brought it eye level to his face before closing his eyes and muttering a firm:_

"_**Abeat"**_

_The seal in the middle of the talisman dissipated and the entire object burst into flames before reforming into a long black blade that, hilt aside, would stretch from War's palm to forearm. Ancient runes glowed an angry red against the obsidian of the blade and pulsed as though it were a living entity. It was crafted in the shape of a dagger but big and long enough to be considered a short sword._

_The reaction from the room was instantaneous. Fury awoke and flinched violently (not bothering to hide it). Strife's hand was clutched tight on Mercy as though the firearm could offer some comfort. The fatigued Cherub lying on the mattress snapped her eyes open and made a feral sound in the back of her throat. Stark regarded the weapon in his hand as he would a living breathing pandemic. War could only stare at the weapon in puzzled fascination. Whatever tension had been gathering in the room was effectively shattered when one white-haired Cherub boy deigned to comment:_

"_**What in the seven circles of hell is wrong with you people? Getting so damned jumpy over a god-forsaken hunk of metal." **_

_War be damned himself if he didn't see everyone in the room heave a sigh and roll their eyes at the child's ignorance. Still, he couldn't deny some small voice in his head mirrored the boy's confusion on a more subtle level. If it had both his siblings slightly on edge then chances were it wasn't a mere weapon. But then again __**they **__had never bit the literal bullet from a Grand Abomination. _

"_**Correction kid, there are **__nine hells__** and while we're on the subject of being sorely mistaken, an arcane blade is hardly just a 'hunk of metal' as you put it."**_

"_**Arcane blade, brother..?"**_

"_**Blades that aren't truly blades horseman; they pierce on an entirely different level. Whereas most blades were forged to rent flesh from bone this particular weapon was crafted to rent soul from mind and body. Wouldn't you agree, White Rider?" **_

_Strife's eyes went impossibly narrow at that last line and War could feel a slight spike in his sister's weak aura from behind him. _

"_**As good an explanation as any Cherub. Arcane blades are forbidden weapons and the knowledge of how to craft one has been long since destroyed. Nevertheless that doesn't stop some from trying. Forgeries have been made at a terrible price from their smiths, but aren't even a pale shadow of their legitimate counterparts." **_

"_**From the way you speak I'd guess this isn't the first one you've seen brother?"**_

_Strife snorted at his brother's statement._

"_**Contrary to what you may believe War, Death isn't the only one with knowledge of old and extremely powerful weapons." **_

_The White Rider stretched out an armored hand, palm up towards the Cherub. Stark set the weapon in his hand with an almost exaggerated caution. _

"_**To further answer your question, brother, the council had dispatched Fury and I to recover what we could of these weapons and those whom tried to craft them. It was quite a painstakingly slow mission, to say the least. I fail to see where you could've obtained such knowledge as this mission took place before the first of man took sanctuary within Eden, Cherub." **_

_Strife looked up from the blade to glare at Stark with a dangerous expression in his eyes to which the Cherub countered with one of his own. _

"_**I have my ways White Rider. I am an informant. Knowledge of events not written in texts is of the highest currencies. And rest assured I've been guarding such knowledge for a long time from those who'd seek to use it for contemptible means." **_

"_**Hmph, you're certainly as silver-tongued as any informant I've ever encountered."**_

"_**Were you able to divulge any information on the blade, then," **__War queried the Cherub who sighed and shook his head. _

"_**Not a damn thing. Whoever crafted that weapon is a mage of considerable skill. I've tried twice to worm past the enchantments and wards that protect its core, and the most I've gotten from it was its name: Tenebrae." **_

"_**Thankfully you had received the medical attention when you did Horsewoman. Given a few more hours and you would have been beyond our help." **_

"_**Will she be alright," **__Fury gestured to the sleeping Cherub girl next to Nathaniel. _

"_**Trust me; she's dealt with far worse."**_

"_**Is this why you wanted me to bring her here, Stark," **__Queried a weary Nathaniel Reever. His expression was somewhat shrewd in faint disapproval. _

"_**Truthfully I would've preferred Eclipse. Her abilities, though similar to Sonia's, are more suited for healing purposes, but alas I've got no idea where she might be in this world right now, or if she's in a situation of her own. So I had to make due. She didn't do too badly for someone who's generally a complete dunce at any spell she's unfamiliar with. Then again, she **__did __**have me to help her every step of the way. "**_

"…_**Seriously Stark? I'm still somewhat awake you know… Are you going to continue insulting me when I'm dead and in my grave?"**_

"_**You don't seriously want me to answer that do you..?"**_

_Strife tossed the diabolical blade to War. _

"_**Keep it safe brother. It's a valuable piece of evidence and we may yet find someone in Creation who can wring some piece of knowledge from that thing, yet. That is, if we don't find any from this little side trip." **_

_He swept from the room before War could respond and the horseman quickly followed suit only stopping to regard his sister whom was now soundly asleep. He turned his gaze to the Cherub within the room._

"_**On behalf of my sister I thank you for saving her. Though he may not show it, know that my brother mirrors this gratitude as well."**_

_End Flashback_

* * *

War wasn't much attuned to magic, which was unsurprising. He was a warrior and a swordsman, after all. However that didn't mean he was unfamiliar with it. Not long after carrying the blade in his gauntlet did he start to hear its voice: talking to him, no one, or anyone that could hear it in a language so ancient, the horseman could not comprehend the words. Nor did he want to.

The weapon wasn't alive, like the abominations were, in their own way; nor was it as vile. But it was powerful, and ancient. The longer he listened to the unfathomable words , the more he felt as though it wasn't the blade itself that was speaking, but the one who forged it. He had no way of following through with that notion, though. However, he knew someone who could, and it wasn't Strife.

It was the boy's next words that broke him out of whatever daze his serious train of thought had kept him locked in.

"Eden eh? Not that I should be surprised, but you both have been around for awhile. What are you guys, truly?"

"We are the Horsemen of the Apocalypse," Strife responded with his back to the curious child.

"Well yeah but I also know there's more to you guys than that. Stark called you Nephilim once before. What exactly is Nephilim?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Just curious. Our Scripture describes you lot as fallen angles who descended to Earth to harass human women."

War scowled and Strife groaned in exasperation.

_Only a human could come up with such outlandish conjectures…_

"Who in the nine hells devised that load of bull?"

The boy shrugged.

"Beats me. Take it up with whoever wrote the Book of Enoch. It says you were beings of great evil and one of the prime reasons 'God' flooded the earth. Of course I can guess from your reactions that depiction isn't accurate."

_**Really**__ now?_

"…You are correct to assume so, Cherub. Nephilim are a union of angel and demon. Your book of Enoch was correct to assume that the Nephilim were beings of great evil though. But that was eons ago before the first seeds of your kind were even sown. All you need know of us now is that we are of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse."

"That may be so Horseman, but no matter how much you wish, you can never escape from what you are. Take it from someone who knows."

Something in the child's tone reminded War of a previous conversation Strife had with that Cherub, Stark.

"_Some may believe the vast energies of the Seraphim are squandered on the likes of us-"_

"_And so they try to take it by force."_

"It was your choice to accept the power and the risk it carries, boy."

"Ah! Don't misunderstand rider, I only meant to point out a fact. I've never regretted my decision to form a contract with the White Flame."

War knew precious little behind the history of the Cherubim. But what he did know (courtesy of the Council and Strife) roused a small curiosity from under his stoic disposition. Humans, who became Cherubim and had obtained a source of mana to call their own, stopped aging. They were forced to live outside of their former, mortal society. Additionally they would have to contend with those who would hunt them and forever covet their power, even if it be one of their own. Such was the price of that immense power. Was it worth the risk to them, to cast aside the simplicity of their former lives only to jump into a game played by titans?

What sort of events could push a mere boy, like the one before him, to desire power so much that he would willingly choose to walk down this path of thorns?

"Hey kid, did you know the Azure flame?"

Strife's sudden question broke War out of his thoughts. Both horsemen turned to regard the boy whose face had gone blank at the question.

"As an acquaintance yes. We've had similar dealings in the past."

_Spoken more like an elusive merchant avoiding a discussion on his less than reputable clientele. _

War wouldn't voice that thought and call the boy out on his response because he knew he didn't have to. Strife would beat him to it. And surely enough, his brother didn't disappoint.

"Hmm, that's an interesting answer for one whose here to clear her name."

"Who said anything about clearing her name? I'm just looking for the truth like you guys. Though I'll seriously be damned if she really is the mastermind behind all this. Don't get me wrong, people can surprise the hell outta you, when it comes to their true colors, but this whole thing seems beyond even her."

"True enough, but I never insinuated she was the mastermind behind it all. Innocent or not even you can't deny she played a key role in triggering whatever chaos in ensuing now."

"Ugh, you're right on that one. Even so, I highly doubt she did this intentionally."

"Heh, you're quick to defend someone you claim to only know as an acquaintance. What kind of dealings did you have with her anyway? Did they ever extend beyond formality, if you catch my drift?"

"Oh hell no. I'd rather throw myself off a tall building than partake of that pretty piece of poison."

War watched the exchange between his brother and the Cherub in mild amusement. Strife could go on about how silver-tongued that Stark was, but War knew his brother well. Strife could very well walk that tightrope between observation and implication as easily as any silver tongue could. He could hardly resist driving people into corners and goading them into conflict. Much the same way Death could never pass up a chance to be a smart ass with his sarcasm. That was probably one of many reasons why the two would butt heads at almost every encounter.

Normally War would have said something to divert his brother from this irksome habit, but this conversation divulged interesting insight on the Cherub guiding them through the dessert. The boy so far held up well against his brother's onslaught. His expression betrayed no underlying emotions of irritation or anxiety. At Strife's implication he merely sighed and took a decent minute to think before responding.

"I really don't know her that well, but someone close to me does. That person doesn't believe the Sharp Shooter willingly had a hand in all of this mess. And I trust her judgment."

Neither War nor his brother expected that answer.

"You're not serious are you? You're willing to risk your life on a blind faith in the reasoning of another, and for a woman you claim to barely know. Is this bravery, stupidity, or some of both?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. Seriously though, you can't tell me that you wouldn't defend one of your own if they were stuck in the same quagmire?"

The kid had a point there. Somehow that brought an end to the conversation and the boy moved to get some rest. Though War could've sworn he heard a grouchy Strife murmur from his perch "this is why humans don't work."

"Oh yeah, there was something else I wanted to ask you two."

"What now," War asked the boy whom already looked half asleep.

"What happened to the rest of the Nephilim? I'm pretty sure there were more than four of you at one point."

"Judgment."

"That's the best answer I'm getting isn't it."

"That's the best there is. Now rest. The whole reason we've halted our journey is so you could regain your strength. We move out at dawn."

"Yeah, yeah."

* * *

_ACK-CHOOO!_

A wet and most obnoxious sound had jostled the horsewoman from her sleep at the bedside. She was always a light sleeper when she even needed to sleep. So needless to say she was extremely annoyed to be woken up for the _third blasted time _by this fool. Apparently she wasn't the only one.

"Dios mia, Jesus and Maria Stark cover up your damn mouth before you sneeze! Some of us are trying for a little shut eye over here!"

That blue haired woman from before Fury had only got a passing glimpse of in her previous haze had returned sometime tonight to kick the raven haired Cherub off the bed. **(A:N—yes Dust is not with her for obvious reasons he's still cooped up in the closet with a ward that makes it sound proof. I'm too lazy to properly work this in and this chapter's big enough as is) **Said raven haired Cherub cracked one blue eye open in confusion.

"Don't tell me you've caught cold Stark."

"Nah just some beauty out there talking up a pretty storm about me."

Fury snorted in amusement at that.

"A pretty storm no doubt involving a stream of curses along with stories of your nasty little gifts that nip and maw at the apex in between the legs."

At the horsewoman's jibe the woman who had previously been napping snickered and Sonia burst into full blown laughter.

"That…would imply he could actually _get something_!"

Temporarily was the room filled to the brim with the sounds of female laughter. Out of the entire horsemen most found Fury to be the most amiable, for some odd reason. However different she may have been from her brothers in that regard, she certainly shared their sense of humor. Namely, cracking jokes at the expense of others.

But if Stark was at all affected by their jibes and jesting he did little to show it. Fury couldn't deny how it sort of put a damper on her humor. She could recall a red-faced flustered Strife contending (or trying to) with Death and his masterful use of sarcasm. Now _that_ was funny. But this human merely rolled his eyes before speaking up once more.

"God I don't believe in save me from this gang of _gaggling geese_. And to you Mrs. Belmond, at least when I walk down the street with a companion on arm people won't generally mistake me for the pretentious street hustler looking to overcompensate with way too much clothing."

Not missing a beat after his comment did Stark move to the side to avoid the book tossed his way by a red-faced Sonia Belmond. Her irritation complete with half lidded halcyon eyes and a twitching raven brow. The woman was wide awake now in favor of watching this most amusing scene unfold. Fury on the other hand was stuck between irritation at being referred to as a _goose_, and curiosity behind Stark's comment toward the younger Cherub with yet another book in hand.

"It's not very ladylike to throw things, love. Seriously, this is how you resolve conflicts? I can't help but feel even sorrier for Nate."

"I can't believe I'm getting a lecture about scandal from _you _of all people. At least I don't scamper after the opposite sex like a dog in heat. And speaking of I'm pretty sure the dog in heat has had more fun than you as of late."

Perhaps it was the tension of their current fix or maybe it was commonplace for these two to squabble at their every encounter. Fury suspected it to be the latter. Vaguely, they reminded her of Strife and Death with the way they sometimes seemed to bicker for the sake of bickering.

_Or to see who's the better smart ass…_

"My god you know the situation is shitty when you've got all of us holed up in the same bunk with nothing better to pass the time than poking fun at our many virtues and vices," the woman idly commented beside Fury as they watched the other two.

"Hmm I fail to see where the virtues configure into the conversation," Fury replied and the other looked at her with a glint of amusement in her cloudy jade eyes.

"Well as they say one man's virtue is another's vice."

"So I've heard." Cherubim were of human origin, if her memory served her. She had remembered Strife telling her that humans could pretty witty for such otherwise lacking creatures.

"By the way, what is a 'Street hustler'?"

The woman blinked two foggy eyes at her question before responding.

"That would be someone who sells themselves on the street for money. Nowadays they tend to be around Sonia's age group which is why Stark had made that comment."

"That young," both of the horsewoman's eyebrows were raised in a morbid surprise.

"Sometimes younger. It's pretty shocking to think you've never really heard of this kind of thing before."

Fury had no words for that. While she had heard her fair share of prostitution and other pleasures of the flesh throughout the realms of Creation, this was sort of unheard of. Child prostitution was abhorred in the angelic realms, though she wouldn't put demons past anything. The clarification the woman offered her seemed to take the humor out of Stark's comment and induce a darker, more sobering observation in its place.

"Funny isn't it? Most ordinary humans believe the truest of evils to be of demonic origins, even today. Back when I was mortal I never believed that sack of shit from the get-go. We're all more than capable of horrifying deeds ourselves without help from outside entities, thank you very much. That's especially true with those who have power. I don't know too much about the societies of heaven or hell, but it's a dog eat dog's life down here. Unless you're born into wealth, you live however you can or you don't. Children don't stand a ghost of a chance on their own. If they're too young to work in the mines or the factories then unless they can find an orphanage that isn't overcrowded as is, they don't have too much a choice. Too many men will pay a fancy price for the terrified screams of young virgins."

If the atmosphere in the room wasn't sullen by then it was now. What had earlier been little more than a light jest had developed into something darker and less innocent in nature. Even Stark and Sonia seemed to have stopped their arguing to listen to their conversation. Fury had almost wished she had never asked.

"Ugh aren't you all just a lovely spot of afternoon sun. Seriously, I think I need a drink now," Stark spoke up making his way to a small kitchen in the other room.

"Make that two," the woman yelled after him.

"Make it three," Sonia spoke up from deep thought.

"I'm not serving alcohol to children!"

"Asshole! You know damn well I'm over ten times the age of any child! Besides this is England! If you're old enough to hustle you're old enough to drink!"

Not a moment later did an oddly shaped bottle fly across the room and into Sonia's unexpectant hands.

"Ack! I can't drink all of this! I can't even drink half!"

"Whoops I meant to toss that to the alcoholic sleeping beauty on the bed. But by all means feel free to indulge."

"Just wine please", was her reply as she passed the container of dark amber liquid to the other.

"Lightweight," she muttered accusingly while removing the cap.

"Drunkard," Sonia shot back.

Fury was never one to drink. The way the alcohol dulled one's senses was most vexing to her.

"Is it really wise to drink so liberally when we could be attacked at any minute?"

"Relax, Horsewoman," Came Stark's response as he returned with two glasses of a dark red substance. One of which he gave to Sonia.

"Stark's right. I would hardly call this drinking liberally. Besides, if we were about to be attacked you'd know it. Stark's wards would take care of that much."

Fury raised an eyebrow to the woman who had nearly finished off the bottle of drink.

"Riiiight. Clearly we've got two definitions of 'liberal' if you can tell me that while downing an entire bottle of that rotgut poison. And I'm more worried about dealing with the attack when it comes rather than just sensing it."

Fury knew full well how alcohol could affect senses and motor functions in the wake of excessive consumption. Demons, angels, even the old ones, were quite different when compared to humans in alcohol tolerance. Makers brew would probably knock all three of them flat…Hell, it could probably mess her up to some degree.

The woman sat the mostly empty bottle on the nightstand Fury rested upon before regarding the horsewoman with a shrewd expression.

"I'll have you know rider, I'm a helluva lot older than I look and I have been drinking for quite some time. It takes more than a bottle of whiskey to plaster me. On that subject I actually _have _gotten into quite a nasty scuffle with some cheapskate mage merchant completely hammered and I'm still here today. Not that I'm ever having a repeat of _that_ experience again. The hangover that following morning was hell."

Fury highly doubted she would have to worry about any hangovers the morning after were she to even try to take on these _'_Black Riders' drunk. There would be no morning after, for her anyway.

Black Riders eh…

Just thinking of them made her blood boil hot in her veins. She hated how she had to wait around with these Cherubim, biding her time for her brothers to come back with some answers. The wound in her chest still ached from where the two Cherubim before had purified it. She was regaining her strength though it was a painfully slow process. Arcane weapons like that which she had been stabbed with were the worst. Wounds to the spirit were completely different than wounds to the flesh.

Even as she searched the realms of Creation with her brother in what felt like an impossible amount of time, she doubted there ever were _true _arcane blades in existence. As their search turned up falsely, it seemed more and more likely that these weapons were merely fireside tales creatures told in an attempt to scare one another.

She knew she was sorely mistaken on that fact when the blade cut through her skin, flesh, sinew, and bone, like butter, straight into her soul. There was something else about the blade only she understood; something clearly that Cherub and her brothers had missed.

The curse wasn't trying to kill her. Its evil magic didn't run that simple, or merciful. The purpose of an arcane blade wasn't to kill, but to corrupt; to twist and bend its very victim to the whim of its master. Whatever blight that had been spreading through her system, was corroding her slowly from the inside out.

_But there was more than that…_

_So much more…_

_There are forces in this world even we, the horsemen, are venerable to._

If there was one whom could defy that thought then it was Death…

* * *

There was pain. So much pain, then…nothingness. It was a silent reprieve the fallen creature had been so grateful for. But alas it was not meant to last, for it would seem that as soon as he'd been free he had returned by that _damned voice_…

**Can you remember who you are? **

Out of spite he wanted to ignore the question, but something he could not control compelled him otherwise.

**I haven't had a name in ages. I haven't had need of one.**

**Do you know who **_**I **_**am?**

…**How could I not, Horseman of Death? **

**By whose orders were you sent and why?**

**...**

**The longer you take to answer my question, the longer you'll be here. Answer however you can and you shall return to your peace. **

…**As you've probably figured, we are a band of merks, but that is not all we are. We serve as lesser units for our commander. He was the one on this assignment. We would get a generous cut, if we had completed our task to him. **

**And that task was?**

**Azrael the angel of death. **

…**What was the name of your commander?**

**His true name I cannot tell you for I do not know. But to all of us, he is known as Pride…**

* * *

Thus he let his informant go. Further questioning seemed utterly pointless, based on what little the dead demon merk could tell him. Still, he had some interesting information on his hands. He would've preferred to ask the dead scribe had the merks not torched his corpse shortly before Death could finish them all off. They were well informed of his abilities. Well, their commander probably was.

_So they are after Azrael now. _

Death was hardly surprised at the turn of events. The old scholar _is _the guardian of the Well after all.

_Does that mean that these Abyssal beings desire the power of the Well now? Or perhaps the angel had discovered something in those scrolls that the enemy doesn't want him or others to know. _

_A combination of both reasons seems probable…_

So it was all a setup from the get-go. Then the mercenaries that had killed the scribe were, in fact, expecting Azrael to take the bait as opposed to himself. Still, there was an oversight in that observation the horseman couldn't ignore.

_Pride…_

They called themselves the seven deadly sins. Out of all the assassination groups in Creation, they were by far the largest and most ancient. Death remembered hearing of them first upon the fields of Kothysos where the Nephilim had faced hordes upon hordes of demonic mercenaries. Since that time he would keep both eyes on the vagabond organization as best as he could. They were the best of the best in assassination. Only the rich and prominent could afford their services.

Pride was the strongest of them in their hierarchy. However among the field of dead merks the rider had slain, he was nowhere to be found.

_Did he really expect a mere unit of merks to take on one of the most successful magi in Creation..?_

_Unless…_

The realization hit Death a subtly as flying rock and the horseman cursed loudly in ancient and forgotten languages as he made his way back to the spire in which he left Azrael in.

* * *

The flames weren't even the worst of it. They were merely a prelude for the danger yet to come. The Angel of Death knew this much when he felt an aura, the likes of which he had never before encountered. Two auras actually; one was of the Abyssal being slowly emerging from the dying flame.

The other was from the two arcane blades he donned in both of his decrepit hands. The armed appendages held steadfast, to two twin rods of obsidian that extended well past his calves into dual ornate axes. Both rod and blade were lined from one end to the other with diabolical runes that glowed an angry red. Only someone such as himself who had poured over texts most ancient would recognize those blades in stories that had all but turned to legend.

_Bellum and Scismaticum**_

"Identify yourself," he spoke in a commanding voice that completely hid the undertones of fear he held, more for the two blades in the creature's hand than the creature himself.

"I am an Abyssal lord of the fallen in my master's army, and I've come for you, Angel of Death."

He raised both blades to the forefront of his body and charged. Azrael had just enough time to react before the twin blades made their way to his flesh.

Little did both parties anticipate the foot that had roughly shoved against his attacker's face, courtesy of one swift Horseman of Death. The Abyssal lord flew through the opposite wall of the tower and plummeted at least a hundred feet below onto the opposite roof.

Azrael could hardly get a sound of surprise out before the horseman jumped out of the gargantuan hole now present on the side of the room.

* * *

Thankfully, the window was already busted from before when he jumped out to chase that rouge scribe. Considering neither of them had even begun to notice his presence, Death concluded a solid surprise attack was in order. He didn't expect it to work out so well. Azrael might've noticed and did a damned good job of hiding that fact from his opponent. Either his assailant was painstakingly slow at anticipating Death's guerrilla tactics or the horseman was much faster than he thought.

It hardly mattered now as he was falling to meet his still dazed opponent from a daunting height. Harvester was lodged firmly inside the brick outer walls of the building just enough for him to use the weapon as a brake to his increasing momentum. Only when he got down to a suitable height that wouldn't cause him any sort of pain did he remove his scythe from the tower and vault himself onto the roof below. Now only a handful of feet from his opponent, did he sense the deadly aura emanating from the weapons the Abyssal being brandished his way. He back-flipped out of his attacker's strike range, and two axes met air then earth. An idea flew into the horseman's head faster than a bullet, and he reacted accordingly. He charged toward his opponent and using one axe as a ramp he vaulted forwards catching the creature in the face with the armored cap of his knee.

It stumbled back from the force of the hit while Death landed firmly on the ground behind it. Not sparing a second of time did the horseman whirl around to face his opponent's exposed backside taking harvester with him as one scythe. The blade cleanly cleaved the Abyssal lord in two and the carcass fell to the ground in a defeated heap.

That didn't stop the two great axes from hurling themselves at a momentarily exposed horseman and it was all Death could manage to jump to the side out of their way. He didn't expect them to wind their way back to him once more like some sort of boomerang. This time he back-flipped out of their attack and when he landed was more than a little surprised to see that his opponent had pieced himself back together again. The axes landed into the awaiting hands of the revived Abyssal lord as though the two were drawn together by some magnetic force.

"You're a great deal more agile than you look horseman, but it'll take more than that to defeat me," the lord boasted as he twirled the great blades in his hand in waiting for Death to make his move.

"Well _someone _has a penchant for stating the obvious."

The creature never got a chance to respond as both parties were bombarded with a generous amount of cannon fire. For the most part, Death was able to avoid the blasts of energy, save for the one that clipped him none too lightly on his side. The Abyssal lord wasn't nearly as lucky. Death could hear the scream from a good distance away. Though he did note it sounded like one of agitation more than one of agony.

"What in the name of the light is the meaning of this, Pale Rider?!"

Death suppressed a groan of agitation at the bark issued by a very gruff and dismayingly familiar voice. He turned to face a group of Hellguard and what looked to be an exceedingly agitated Abbadon. The archangel stared him down as though he was the one responsible for this mess.

"Why don't you ask _him_. I'm pretty sure he could tell you more than I."

Death gestured towards the already recovered Abyssal lord with an air that expressed he was more interested in Abbadon's comically surprised reaction than the fact that the damned thing had reformed itself _again. _

Only this time the creature was furious. Death could tell that much from the aggressive aura. No, it wasn't an aura. Death could feel something far more potent in the air and it hung about the area as a foul odor would. Abbadon had landed a few feet in front of Death, but still a good distance from the Abyssal lord. The small unit of Hellguard he brought with him circled dangerously above.

"I do believe the time for talk has passed, horseman," the creature hissed and held one unarmed hand in front of them. In its outstretched, rotted palm did an orb that was almost crystal clear, save for the obsidian glow, appear. He vanished into the awaiting shadows below just as the orb began to plummet to the ground. Death suspected the worst…

And apparently Abbadon did the same. The archangel vaulted into the air and issued an order to his unit to back up.

The orb touched the ground and expanded. Death could see past the obsidian glow that everything absorbed within its growing field was rapidly decaying. Death backed up a good distance from the danger just as he saw something shoot out of the hole he created in the tower above. Now more of a diabolical energy field, than an orb, it covered a great deal of the spire. Death could hear the screams of so many scribes inside that were being eaten away by this accursed magic.

Blue energies ensnared the field, trapping the energy to keep it from expanding all the while trying to extinguish it once and for all. It was Azrael whom poured his efforts forth into keeping its power at bay. Surely enough, the field of decay began shrinking right about the same time Death felt a dramatic drop within Azrael's aura. The angel was burning through his reserves of mana fast.

_Dammit…_

Death was wholly uncertain whether or not his efforts would prove useful at all, but at this point he had to do something. He raised his hands high above his head and uttered an incantation in a tongue all but forgotten. A vortex of bone and mana launched itself towards the pulsating energies Azrael struggled to hold off. As though the horseman and angel were in some sort of magical shoving contest against this thing, both parties could feel the dark magic weaken further only to then launch a fierce wave of raw mana at them in response. Death could feel his heels dig into the ground as the invisible force hit him as though trying to swat him away.

It was during this time when both rider and angel were nearly at their limit did Abbadon and his unit _finally _deign to provide some sort of assistance. Death didn't know whether to feel relief or agitation at the commander of the Hellguard for taking so damn long, as scores of cannon-fire smashed into the field non- stop. It took one more powerful attack from Abbadon himself who summoned a whirlwind of angelic blades that relentlessly bombarded the sphere until it returned to the nothingness from whence it came.

Death strode to Azrael's side as the angel descended to the ground. The old angel was utterly exhausted. From above, the Hellguard unit cheered in victory only to be stopped by Abbadon who barked at them to contact a medical unit for the injured who were still alive within the spire that barely managed to stay intact through the chaos.

"Are you alright Azrael?"

The question was posed more out of courtesy than concern, and Death was sure Azrael could somehow figure that much from his tone. He snorted and idly brushed off the dust upon his robes before answering.

"I've seen better days horseman but I'm quite fine. I thank you for your assistance"

"Azrael!"

The shout came from above and Death didn't have to look to know it was Abbadon. He landed a few paces in front of them. In a more normal tone of voice he asked of the angel's welfare and received an affirmative, before then turning his back to both of them to survey the damage.

"Alright now can someone tell me what in the name of the Creator is going on around here?!"

"Surely you can see the answer for yourself, general. But since you asked and seem to be having a hard time putting two and two together, I'll humor you with a response: Chaos."

From the corner of his eye he saw Azrael shoot him a sideways glance so comically shrewd, he had to fight the urge to snicker. He heard Abbadon's growl and it took him a few moments, (of what Death assumed) to regain his composure. He all but spun around and pointed a finger at Death in accusation.

"What are _you _even doing here? Weren't you supposed to be chasing that Cherub, or did you mean to drag whatever anarchy that found you in the Third Kingdom back here, because I'm quite tempted to believe that to be the case!"

The angel's voice rose with every word. Death on the other hand couldn't have been more calm and spoke to him as though dealing with an unruly child.

"By all means feel free to believe whatever you like since you'll do so anyway. Of course, you'll be _wrong _but since when has that stopped you before?"

As per typical, Azrael cut in before Abbadon could respond, and add further fuel to this farcical fire.

"Death was here to receive my council, Abbadon. It was also he who saved me from that creature from before, who came here on an attempt at my life."

Abbadon's good eye narrowed in on Death before regarding Azrael with a firm nod. From above a group of angels double the size of the earlier group were soaring their way. Both warrior and medic moved past the three of them and into what was left of the spire. Abbadon left after that claiming that the High Council needed to know what transpired here.

"At least he had enough sense not to ask _why _they wanted you in the first place," Death mused and Azrael rolled his eyes.

"Yes I'm pretty sure he has his suspicions. Were you that intent on withholding any sort of information from him or is it because Abbadon possesses neither the patience nor tact to be immune to your sarcasm that you couldn't help yourself? Somehow, I dread the day when you have to speak to him and I'm not there to act as a buffer between you two. "

He spoke in an exasperated voice with linings of faint amusement. Death couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him.

"Yes, Creation forbid that day ever comes. Still, I'm sure I'll manage somehow."

"Did you manage to retrieve back the scroll from the thief?"

"Yes, though said thief didn't survive the ordeal. Not by my hand, in case you're wondering. A band of demonic mercenaries, who were actually expecting you, took the deed out of my hands. It would seem as though their leader had known of my presence so the plan to draw you into their trap turned into a plan to feint me. Though, I was quite surprised to see that your assailant wasn't the leader of that unit, but an Abyssal being."

"How can you be sure that the Abyssal Lord from before wasn't the one commanding those mercenaries?"

"Because one of the demonic merks gave me the name of their leader: Pride. I highly doubt that he's one of the Abyssal beings, or that he's in possession of what looked to be an arcane blade."

"Yes it is somewhat doubtful that any assassin could have such a weapon in their possession; especially _that one _in particular."

"So it is an arcane weapon after all."

Arcane magic was a lost art of an age much older than even the Firstborn Nephilim. Nowadays it was little more than legend told in vague unreliable stories. The Charred Council had long since destroyed any accurate and explicit knowledge of the forbidden art, be it within scroll or within living being. That was one of their first acts and had taken place long before Death had left the Nephilim ranks and became the reaper. Azrael turned to him with a look of anxiety that had little to do with his weariness.

"Yes, _a true arcane weapon_. Older than you or I, as a whole its name is Bellum Scismaticum—The Great Schism in the common tongue. It was made by Azazel the Forger of Weapons and buried with him within his tomb of Duduael."

Not for the first time did Death have a hunch he hoped to the Creator, was wrong.

"And where is this tomb, exactly?"

Azrael gave him a grim smile before answering.

"Where else would a tomb for one of Creation's most heinous heretics be, but within the darkest and deepest levels of the Abyss…"

_**To be continued…**_

**A:N—Holly shit this took forever *dies* **

**The Arcane shit wasn't originally part of the plan but I liked it so I added it in. Hopefully I'm not contradicting anything with this unexpected add on. **

**Not that I really wanted to leave it off here but this is already past 9,000 words. Please favorite follow or review, commentary is appreciated greatly!**

_**Animefreak 114 clocking out**_


	10. The Call to Conflict

**A/N: **

**No I'm not dead; this chapter just took me a whole helluva long time to finish! Especially since I was kind of lost about how I wanted to move the story along from here! **

**_WARNING_: Extremely long chapter with important plot elements and a shit-ton of dialogue. Yes, there's some action to be had here but not a lot. **

**Also Death will not be making an appearance in this chapter, but look out for him in the next!**

**_Disclaimer_:** ** I do not own Darksiders I or II or any other references to other lore. **

**Let's get to it, shall we?**

* * *

_Flashback:_

_Guard duty really wasn't suited for her at all... _

_A harsh sigh of boredom escaped her dry lips as she tapped her booted foot against the metal bars of the prison. She also forgot to mention she disliked prisons: way too many bad memories. But what could she do? She would do her job, regardless of the fact that one of her employers had missed the memo on how she was supposed to be an assassin instead of a fucking sentry._

_A groan from her ward drew her attention. _

"_About time sleeping beauty. Seeing as you don't really have anything better to do right now, why not keep me company? I've been terribly bored."_

_She said in a casual tone as though this was someone she wasn't tasked to kill not but 24 hours prior. _

_Had the look she received been from anyone but the helpless, powerless, clueless young girl behind the metal bars her foot had taken a liking too, she might've regarded them with the slightest bit of wariness. _

_Then again, it was best not to underestimate a caged, threatened animal. She had made that terrible mistake with this child once before, and she wasn't the only one. _

"_I thought it was your job to kill me, assassin. You've had plenty of chances so why am I still alive?"_

"_That eager to die?"_

"_Answer the question."_

_She gave a derisive snort._

"_Well brat, it seems that you've either got a lot of nerve or you're just really dense if you think you're in any position to make demands of me. Still, for the sake of keeping up this sorry excuse of a conversation, I suppose I'll humor you. Circumstances have changed. I've been told you're to remain alive, for the time being."_

"_Why? What's the meaning of this? I haven't done anything wrong and neither has Nate! Who the hell are you people? Are you even people, or are you all some kind of demon?!"_

_At that she couldn't stop the laughs that heaved their way through her lungs. _

"_Oh the irony! The demon calling us the demons! Oh you're too much kiddo, you really are!" _

_At the bewildered, albeit angered gaze her captive gave her, she sobered up. Hoisting herself off of her uncomfortable wooden chair she closed in on the space between her and the bars before kneeling to the child's level. The little girl sprang into a pathetic attempt at a defensive stance. _

"_You really don't remember anything do you?"_

_She could see the semi-remorseful expression on her own face reflected in the large halcyon eyes of the girl who looked at her with such uncertainty. _

"_Perhaps, this case of amnesia you've developed was for the best. After all, were you not happy in your blissful dream of normalcy where you could spend your hours frolicking about the grassy fields with those friends of yours as a normal village girl? Had it been to my decision, perhaps I would've granted you the clemency to continue living in that fantasy. But as you can see, such a quaint ending wasn't meant to be."_

_The child was quivering now in a myriad of emotions directed all towards her and her alone. _

"_You can hate and curse me as much as you want for the wakeup call, kiddo. You wouldn't be the first. Putting your aptitude for dumb luck aside, you could very well carry that hatred of me to your grave before living long enough to realize how misplaced that anger truly is."_

_A small hand lunged for her through the metal, way too slow and easy to dodge. Instead she caught the offending appendage and used it as leverage to pull the kid closer. She could sense the child's discomfort at their proximity, but couldn't bring herself to give a shit. _

"_Well sleeping beauty, if you feel like cursing anything then curse the cruel reality you've so recently woken up to. Because for every few lucky folk who get to live out their lives the way you wanted to there's a greater amount of unlucky people like yourself who don't get that chance. No, you haven't done anything wrong per se, not yet anyways, and neither has that friend of yours. You two just happened to be at the wrong place in the wrong time. That's life: not fair doesn't cover it, not by a long shot."_

_She squeezed the small wrist entrapped between her fingers. _

"_Here's a bit of friendly advice from someone who's been in your shoes: No one in the nine hells and heavens above ever said you have to take all of this bullshit lying down. Fight. Find the power that was unrightfully born unto you and use it to take control of your life. That very conflict is what defines what we are. You asked what I was, right? Well here's your answer: I'm someone who obtained power and chose to fight against my fate. I'm a Cherub." _

_She released the girl and stood up in one fluid motion. Now that the brat was conscious she needed to report back to her client for further instruction._

_As she made for the exit she turned back to her prisoner who was staring into the stone lost in thought._

"_Well Sonia Belmond, it was nice to formally get acquainted with you. I'm looking forward to see what you plan on doing, henceforth."_

* * *

Two unseeing jade eyes cracked open under unrelenting eyelids. She willed down her initial surprise at the murky blackness which permeated her now terrible vision. It had been centuries since she could remember what it was like to be blind. Needless to say the regression was far from welcome. Her current condition reminded her too much of the person she was before she formed a contract with Nakim and became the Sharp Shooter.

_Powerless helpless clueless, but unrelenting all the same… _

Focusing on her functioning senses she managed to hop out of bed and maneuver herself out of Stark's main room without waking the sleeping denizens at her bedside. As easily as she could, she made her way to the upstairs balcony on the second floor of Stark's home. She silently thanked her resilient memory of being in this house before when her vision was perfect. Otherwise the endeavor for some fresh air would've ended in a hilarious mess. Stopping to glance at the closet she had been so recently cramped in, she contemplated giving the familiar still inside it a breath of fresh air.

No, not a good idea at the moment. She couldn't risk the off chance of it being seen by the lightly dozing horsewoman on the second story below.

She cautiously opened the double doors and sat in one of the mahogany chairs next to the rail, overlooking the entire city. She felt the smallest sensations of relief as the cool night wind danced over her. She could only imagine the visual appeal of the serenity she currently basked in.

It was the calm before the storm.

And when the storm came, she would have no choice but to run and hide until it blew over; like she did before she became a Cherub.

Fear of death in battle was something she'd thought she conquered long ago. After all, she was a killer. What killer would kill if they were afraid to be killed in return? But that was different. She had her flames, she had her guns, she had the _power _to fight back.

But now…

She purged that train of thought from her mind as a more pressing issue had made itself known from behind her.

"How long do you plan on skulking about like that, Sonia? I know I'm supposed to be beautiful but there's no need to be shy, especially among old friends right?"

She didn't need working eyes to envision the eye roll of a response the younger Cherub was doubtlessly giving her and her smart assed attitude.

"Can't sleep? You should try. Otherwise I'm taking back the bed."

"Be my guest, someone should use it. Seriously kid, I highly doubt you came up here to make pointless small talk. If you've got something to say then say it."

The relapse into ambiance was unexpected for Violet. The feel she got from it told her the kid was fishing for the right words, which was unlike her. It was when she opened her mouth for a retort that Sonia finally found her tongue.

"Well now that you mention it, I do. Back then, why didn't you kill me? You said that circumstances had changed. I never got around to asking you what you meant by that. Despite popular opinion, I haven't been spending all of these decades idle. I've done my research and I know about all your _involvement _with a certain notorious assassination group. You were hired to kill me and yet here I stand. I'm pretty sure that failure didn't sit well with everyone else."

Violet rolled her dead eyes.

"If you knew all about my _involvement _as you so tactfully put it, you wouldn't need to ask me that question. Can I assume my answer is the primary reason why you've been so inclined to help me out despite our past history?"

"You mean when you tried to kill me. That was a long time ago Violet."

"Yes and some people hold onto things like that."

"After all the times we've been stuck fighting together since that time you're saying this?"

Violet shot a shrewd look in her general direction.

"Wow just wow. From enemy to friend in only a few hundred years? Hell, you're even sticking your neck out for me! It's so sweet I think I'm going to barf. You can be corny at times Sonia but even you're not _that_ corny. As grateful as I am for your help I'd be even more grateful if you'd stop dodging my question with bullshit."

Sonia groaned in exasperation. Typical Violet: lousy no-nonsense personality. If the young Cherub time traveled four hundred years back to her previous self and told her that by some divine prank, she'd save the life of the very woman who nearly killed her on several occasions; her past persona would've laughed herself stupid.

"Don't flatter yourself woman. I was having my own set of troubles with these Black Riders long before I learned of your predicament. Let's just say you lucked out, as your situation happened to coincide with my investigation. Besides, if I hadn't come to your aid who would? If there's one Cherub who's considered to be just as detestable of an existence as myself then it's you, Miss former-assassin. I'm asking this of you now because I feel there is no better time to do so. Though I will say, it might hinder your chances of survival to deny me a proper answer."

Violet's indulgent laugh gracelessly annihilated any remnants of serenity the atmosphere once possessed.

"Well lookie here, the kitten has finally figured out how to use her claws! It looks like the abilities you garnered from your sadist of a master weren't just limited to arcane arts and physical combat. Now to answer your question…"

She rested her chin on her hand and tapped her foot restlessly in a gesture of thought. As always with Violet, Sonia couldn't determine if the behavior was genuine or mocking."

"Before I am and ever was an assassin, I am a Cherub. If there's one thing that I learned from our past, less-than-friendly-encounters, it was that."

"…"

Silence…

"Wait…that's it?"

"Yep. That would be the short version. If you want to hear the longer version then I guess you're gonna have to make sure I'm still alive by the end of this hell-spawn of a situation."

Oh how she wished she could see the no doubt, dumfounded look her "savior" was giving her right now.

"Are you fucking kidding me? I asked you to clarify, not to befuddle me further with this equivocal nonsense!"

"You asked me what I meant by circumstances had changed and I told you, albeit in an ambiguous way. If you're so desperate to know more then I've no doubt you'll bail me out of this mess somehow. Considering the fact that you even remembered that conversation hundreds of years back, I'd say you want to know my full answer pretty badly."

"God in heaven strike me down for my terrible judgment. I've stuck my neck out for a completely cryptic, asshole!"

Violet laughed at the ridiculous declaration spurning on the tom-foolery with a theatrical bow sent in Sonia's general direction.

"My pleasure darling. Well, mind games aside, I'm going back to bed. Jesus knows what sort of devilry awaits us in the approaching morning and you've killed the mood quite nicely with your nosy personality."

Violet stood up and stretched her limbs as Sonia made a noise in disgruntlement.

"If it weren't for my _nosy personality_ as you so eloquently put it, you'd be a roast right about now."

Sonia was rewarded with an unintelligible response followed by a whimsical wave of her partner's hand. As Violet descended down the flight of stairs, Sonia called out to her in a cocky voice.

"At the very least you're back to the Violet I know. Someone like you with a devil-may-care attitude to even the most unfavorable of scenarios shouldn't act so unnerved. I daresay you were starting to act like me for a second there and that's just downright disturbing. Oh and now that this is the best chance I'm going to have in a lifetime, let me throw some of your ideology back at you: you're only as powerless as you feel. Just because you don't like your situation doesn't mean you have to accept it or as you say _'no one in the nine hells and heavens above said you had to take this shit lying down!'"_

She ended her monologue mimicking Violet's caustic voice. Yes, it was childish, but it got the point across.

For all the things Violet could've said to her declaration it was her silence that spoke volumes to Sonia more than her wise cracking words ever could.

And certainly more than the middle finger Violet sent her way from over her shoulder.

* * *

No matter how horrible of a personality Strife possessed, he was sharp, especially when it came to magic. Reluctantly, Nathaniel had to give him credit for that as they moved ever so closer to the inner sanctum of the grounds. Yesterday he and his fellow horseman had wondered why the White Rider had been so jumpy and today they had an idea of the answer.

It was some sort of unrestricted system designed to ward off intruders. The feelings of unease had spread to both himself and War before he deduced that it had to be the workings of an outside magic. Still, he was mildly surprised he hadn't noticed it sooner. Unrestricted spells were a form of sorcery entirely unique to the Cherubim. As a Cherub he should've developed an awareness to it far sooner.

"_Be on your guard Nate Reever. Not even the most courageous of the Cherubim would dare to set foot in the grounds you're headed for. The magic that flows through the land, though mostly dead, is ancient and completely alien to the Cherubim of today's age."_

Suddenly Stark's words seemed to hold a more disturbing clarity for the white haired Cherub.

_If it hadn't been for the Orgel's guidance who knows what would've happened to us. _

Still, there was one more thing unsettling about their situation and that was the Red Rider's current temperament. The normally stern but otherwise tranquil aura was all but replaced by something dense and bloodthirsty. It disturbed him and he had the gut feeling the change in the horseman's mood wasn't mainly because of the mysterious unrestricted system that saturated this accursed land.

Strife had sensed the change in his brother as well.

"If something is troubling you War then speak up. I hardly see the point in skulking about the way you're doing right now with such an unfriendly aura."

Inwardly, Nathaniel sweat dropped.

_Wow what a way with words you have, White Rider! As expected from the embodiment of Strife…_

"Right now our sister may be in danger. We have no idea what in the nine hells is going on and rather than going to a more reliable source of information, we're out here in this forsaken dessert with no promise of any answers. Forgive me if contemplating the possibility of this all being a wild goose chase has sullied my mood."

Nathaniel raised a brow at the nasty tone and inwardly flinched when Strife stopped, spun on his heel to face his brother.

_Oh shit…_

"What are you, channeling Death now? From the start we've known there's a possibility of coming back empty handed but are we really in a position to leave any potential oversights? Wake up War; you're not entirely yourself right now! It's insulting to think you'd be so easily affected by the magic here."

War sneered in a way that Nathaniel couldn't help but think, didn't look right on the horseman's face.

"Speak for yourself Strife; you're the one who's been so obsessed with this place. And speaking of Death I'm pretty sure he's the one who's got a better idea of what's happening than we do. Not that you'll ever get past that delicate ego of yours and admit that."

Within a span of seconds Mercy, Redemption, and Chaoseater were drawn to the forefront of the conflict.

"Forget what I said about waking up on your own War. Instead why not allow me to beat some sense into that overly thick head of yours!"

_Okay this is getting out of hand!_

Nathaniel swiftly stepped in between them before either one could launch an attack against the other.

"Enough you two, considering we're not that far from the grounds as is, bickering at this point will do us no good whatsoever!"

"Move it kid, my younger brother needs a lesson," Strife growled as he pointed Redemption at Nathaniel's torso.

"I refuse. And before you think of pulling that trigger remember who was the one to get you both this far in the first place! Without a Cherub to utilize the power of the Orgel your journey will end here."

Before Strife could get so much as a syllable out in response both the ground and the skies above trembled and distorted with power causing all three of them to nearly lose their footing in the aftershock.

"What the hell is going on?!"

Nathaniel bellowed out to the horsemen hoping his voice carried over the noise of shifting tectonic plates.

"The hostility in our auras must've triggered some sort of trap set inside this unrestricted system!" Strife shouted back to the boy. Yellow eyes widened in comprehension of what was to come.

A sandstorm of incredible magnitude was headed their way. It was way too chaotic to exist in nature. Strife could all but hear the ancient chants of the Cherubim from a bi-gone age through the enormous amounts of mana generated by the approaching tempest.

"Kid! The Orgel! Quick!"

Nathaniel didn't need to be told twice. Stowing away his panic, he put all of his mental concentration into the unrestricted spell Stark gave him. A large orb of energy engulfed the three of them just as they were thrown off their feet by the terrible storm.

"About damn time boy! Had you been any slower we would've been torn to tiny bits about now," Strife called out to him, though the harsh tone was far from what Nathaniel expected.

Something delicate and relatively strained inside Nathaniel snapped at that moment.

"You're welcome horseman! Need I remind you of who it was that got us into this situation in the first place! Jesus, haven't you people ever heard of making a point _without _making an enemy!"

"Dammit boy, you pick now of all times to lose your composure?!"

The White Rider gestured towards the cracks appearing in their makeshift barrier and Nathaniel felt his stomach drop to his feet.

"What are you gawking at? Hurry up and fix the damn thing will you!"

"I can't."

From the corner of his eye Nathaniel saw the hand Strife was holding Mercy was twitching with held back irritation.

"What the hell do you mean by that?"

"Conjuring up a pre-existing unrestricted spell is easy enough for any Cherub but fixing one for me is out of the question. I'm not magically inclined like Stark or Violet. In fact, compared to the majority of the Cherubim my mana supply is quite lacking so even if I could it would do little good."

Before Nathaniel could contemplate where Strife was going to pop him one with Mercy, War had risen from his sitting position and drew Chaoseater in an en garde stance.

_Please tell me he's not going to do what I think he's going to do…_

"What in the hell brother?! Are you trying to get us ki-!"

A loud battle cry from the Red Rider had cut his brother off mid-response. Before Nate could begin to contemplate what inevitable calamity would take place next, he and Strife were literally swept of their feet by a fiery creature in place of the white haired horseman.

That was the last thing Nathaniel Reever could envision before blackness swept across his sights.

* * *

_Crimson…_

_The world was bathed in it…_

_Well, at the very least, the world he was lost in…_

_Whether it was the life blood flowing freely in rivers upon the ground or the encircling flames from the heavens above, it was everywhere. _

_His body ached with strain and fatigue but his mind was sharp and rank with fear and anguish. As best as he could, he hauled himself up and began to walk. He had to find her. He had to protect her. He swore he would: to himself and to the comrades who died for them. _

_His heart leapt in relief and joy upon seeing her form. He called out for her and willed his leaden legs into a run. But as he got closer to her he realized something was so horribly wrong. A sudden pressure took hold of him, stopping him mid stride. He fell to his knees in revulsion of the ghastly aura that threatened to overtake him. He looked up and froze._

_This was not her…_

_A woman with crimson eyes and hair in a crimson shroud stared back at him with a vacant expression in her blood colored eyes. _

_This wasn't Sonia…_

_This was the Red Witch…_

_The Witch raised her arms and that's when he got a good look at the long red blade in her hands. _

_Just before the sword severed his head his vision shifted once more. _

_This time he awoke to the sounds of rattling chains: the chains around his feet and hands. There were also people. They flanked him on both sides as though to prevent him from running away. _

_Running away from what?_

_The journey was long and it took them through several well lit hallways with runes of ancient languages he couldn't begin to fathom scrawled on the walls. Then they came to an enormous door. The seal upon it was way too intricate to be the work of one mage. One of the guards raised his hand and an orb of light similar to the Orgel rose up and flew into the magic circle inscribed upon the door. The seals gave way and the door opened for them. What he saw on the other side instilled a great fear in him._

_It was her, the Red Witch, chained to a slab of stone and bound by an intricate set of unrestricted spells. _

_Even if this was the Red Witch, the woman he loved was still a part of her. He opened out his mouth in a loud protest but no sound came out. _

_The last thing he saw was what looked like a great door to a diabolical dimension being opened up, ready to swallow all._

* * *

He sprung forth and gasped loudly, seemingly starved for the sticky air his lungs were rewarded with.

_A dream…a terrifying one but just a dream. Wait…where the hell am I?_

His head whipped back and forth as he, somewhat frantically, took in his surroundings. He was in a dessert and nearly buried in a huge mound of sand.

_Oh right…_

"Hey! Horsemen! Are you two still in one piece?!"

Silence…

Nathaniel couldn't see either of the riders anywhere among the planes of sand his red eyes skimmed across. That is, until he saw a bullet fly through one particularly thick dune accompanied by a loud _BANG _that made him wince.

Only a few moments later, did the Rider of Strife emerge from its depths with an aura that oozed irritation.

"Don't you get crazy on me as well brat. I've got my hands full already with my hothead of a brother. And on that note thank you _so much _War for that reckless move on your part. Now thanks to that I've got sand in places I didn't even know I had."

Nathaniel rolled his eyes at the antics of the White Rider.

Moments later a gigantic sword burst through another sea of sand just behind Nathaniel, making him jump. Using Chaoseater as leverage the Red Rider all but vaulted out of the mound with sand flowing out of his hood and armor in torrents. The hostility he previously housed was all but gone as though it was burnt out of him.

"Be grateful you're still alive Strife. That sandstorm was much more powerful than I anticipated. It took every ounce of strength and mana in my possession to plow through it; especially with two helpless comrades on either hip."

War would've sounded much more menacing had the exhaustion not been so apparent in his tone. Offhandedly Nathaniel wondered how powerful the mages and Cherubim of old truly were if one of their spells could take this much from a Horseman of the Apocalypse.

_I guess there's a reason the few remaining Cherubim from those ancient ages are considered to be the strongest among us. Last time I checked, Asiz, The Prince of Light, was Babylonian. _

He stopped his musings right there before they wandered into dangerous territory and turned his gaze to the two horsemen who seemed to be conversing amongst themselves. Considering the tension in their conversation they were probably arguing something serious though Nate doubted they would draw their weapons on one another again.

_I think…_

He sweat dropped when they began to raise their voices to one another.

_Well even if they don't look that much alike you can totally tell by their tempers they're siblings. _

He forced himself not to think of the siblings he once had as a normal human from long ago. Instead he wondered why War was as agitated as he was earlier. Even if he didn't know the horseman well at all, he knew that the rider's previous actions were definitely out of character.

He was able to guess at his answer when he saw the arcane blade from before pass from War's hand to Strife's.

That's when he took note of a giant structure towering over them not but a few hundred paces ahead. Just from looking he could tell that they had finally reached their destination.

_Well this must what be what they call dumb luck…_

* * *

_Magi sure are haughty creatures._

_Maybe it's because they can do what other men cannot. The mundane world of the normal man cannot touch them with their otherworldly abilities. Thus they created for themselves their own set of laws and principals._

_Yet for some reason this did not abate their arrogance. _

_Or was it a sense of loneliness? There were some, not many, but some magi that felt as though the kingdom of man, where magic was more legend than truth, was not meant for them._

_Faustus was one such man. Even after becoming a Cherub, it still wasn't enough for him. He wanted to touch the realm of the divine, somehow, in some way._

_So he created her…_

_**Chains…**_

_**Many massive chains…**_

_**They surround my body…**_

_**I can feel them in my spirit…**_

_**But why? What's their purpose?**_

_He locked her away in a lonely place existing somewhere in between this world and the worlds beyond: like a crossroad in between dimensions._

_He called it the Gravekeeper's Palace. _

_**I was proof of that man's damnation. **_

_**I was never supposed to exist in the first place.**_

_**It's here in this sad dimension where I spend my days stealing and being stolen from…**_

* * *

_The dream was as startling to her as the awakening. _

_Feeling was the first thing to flood into her before realization. _

_She held in her hands, the cursed blade of her destiny that she must've drawn in the process of waking up. She was breathing hard and the sweat running down her body wasn't the best of sensations. The stone was murder on her rear._

_Wait…Stone?_

_**Stark's floor isn't made of stone. **_

_**Shit…**_

_She pinched her arm. _

_**No pain…Fuck me, I'm still dreaming!**_

_Somewhat fuzzily, she took in her surroundings. _

_**Another vision from the past, eh? Wait…this place isn't the Gravekeeper's Palace.**_

_Though she had to marvel at the similarities…This place had the same levels of mana surging through the area. The floating island structures were reminiscent to her as well. Same colored sky. _

_Same lonely atmosphere…_

_**I can only assume this is another one of those realms in between dimensions. **_

_She took notice of the land she half laid upon. It seemed to be the biggest of these islands. The stone archways and buildings were reminiscent of a lost town or a palace. Like the Gravekeeper's palace they had an otherworldly majesty to them. _

_As she stood the skies began to darken to a ghastly color, and the ground trembled violently beneath her feet. _

_At that point she saw shadows spider forth from every visible crevice in the structures around her. Except unlike normal shadows these things were…alive. Not sentient. But they had an aura only living creatures could possess. And from that aura she felt a terrible hunger. If these were creatures they were starving. They had taken to devouring all the touched. _

_And no doubt she was next…_

_**Well, talk about going from one bad dream to the next…Wake up Sonia. Waaaake up.**_

"_**Over here!"**_

_The familiarity of the voice calling out to her was astonishing. Her head whipped in the direction of that soothing tenor. She felt a tightening in her heart at the sight she was greeted with. _

_**Eren…**_

_The boy in question stood a good ten feet from her person and was giving her a gentle smile that was painful for her to look upon. _

_So long ago when she felt like nothing more than a regular girl, he had been in training with Nathaniel. They were all friends with one another, and he dreamed of being a knight along with her lover. _

_And she was the one to prematurely take that wish from him…_

_**To see his face again isn't so bad actually. **_

_He was making huge gestures with his arms. Apparently, he wanted her to follow him. She ran after the boy just as the shadows tried to make a grab for her. As soon as she was within a personal distance of him he took off again, leaving her with no other option but to follow him._

_**Well this is a weird dream.**_

_She realized she had spoken aloud when the boy running in front of her turned around and flashed her that heartbreaking smile._

"_**Weird yes, but it has its purpose…Just go with it okay?"**_

_His words threw her off, but she was left little time to ponder them when the walls they were running alongside began to give way to the monsters devouring them._

"_**Hurry Sonia!"**_

_She ignored the unpleasant nostalgia inevitably branded within the urgent pitch of his voice and sped on; catching up to his side within little time._

_**Where are we going Eren? And what's chasing us?!**_

"_**I will explain when we arrive."**_

_**Arrive where? Eren is this really the time to be cry-!**_

_She lost her words when her gaze traveled skyward to the enormous tree that towered over even the tallest of edifices within this ancient realm. She heard an unearthly shriek behind her and turned to see the shadows had stopped in their tracks. It's was as though some enigmatic presence had them too frightened to approach. _

"_**The call this tree the Tree of Knowledge, Sonia."**_

_Her gaze turned back to Eren who was stroking the trunk of the giant plant with some semblance of affection. _

_**Then this place is—**_

"_**Eden, that is correct. Or more accurately, what's left of it."**_

_A closed gate with engravings had appeared where his hand was on the center of the tree. _

"_**Do you know what these symbols are Sonia?"**_

_He gestured to the topmost part of the gigantic entryway. Three Symbols adorned the archway above the towering doors. _

_To the left door was what looked to be the visage of a bird with its wings spread as though in flight. A cross belie just above the creature, nearly encompassed by the span of wings surrounding it. To the right door was the sigil of a snake looping in on itself, nearly eating its own tail in the process. It also had a cross. The holly symbol was embedded within the open space the middle of the serpentine circle it had forged. And finally the keystone had what looked to be some sort of horse embracing yet another cross in its center. _

_**I recognize the cross in each of them but nothing more. I don't understand Eren. What am I supposed to be looking at?**_

_The boy sighed before responding._

"_**I would've been surprised if you knew. Save for that which you children of men call a "Cross" these symbols have been lost for eons."**_

_He turned to face her._

"_**There once existed a hierarchy among the Seraphim that you humans fight alongside to this day. These three sigils are representations of the ones who stood at the top. These three were once the guardians to the throne of creation."**_

_Humans…children of men…_

_Realization dawned upon her._

_**You're not Eren are you? You may have his looks and his voice but the Eren I knew would never speak like that. If you've got something to say to me, then you can drop that distasteful parlor trick!**_

_Even if this was a dream, Sonia couldn't fight the anger simmering in her chest. The impostor sighed in slight annoyance before regarding her again. _

"_**It was my intention for you to see through me at some point. I'm sorry for this disgraceful form. My true visage isn't exactly something your young mind could come close to envisioning. I had little choice but to take the form of a person buried in your memories."**_

_The voice that spoke to her was neither male nor female. Just the sound of its unusual tone made Sonia temporarily forget her agitation. _

"_**My true name, in your tongue, would be Shahaer. I represent the topmost symbol on this tablet. Until recent events I was housed inside what has been called by this Creation the 'Tree of Knowledge'. For the longest of times my flame had borne its bountiful fruit. It was my essence that had sustained this vessel and protected it from the ruin that had befallen this sacred garden long ago when the first humans were cast out for trying to tap into its power."**_

_A Seraphim…one as old and as powerful as this one was communicating to her through a mental link. That could only be possible if…_

_**Where are you right now? The only way any Seraph could make a mental link with a person is if they're close in proximity. **_

_Shahaer beamed at her, obviously pleased with her observation._

"_**Recall that I said I 'was' housed inside the Tree of Knowledge. Sometime ago I was forced to escape. So that my powers could never fall into the hands of the Abyss, and that dreadful being, I had to by choosing the most suitable vessel within my reach."**_

_Sonia already had an idea of what this Seraph was getting to, but shook her head at its impossibility. _

_**There's no way. No human being could handle the presence of two Seraphim within her spirit. Much less a Seraph of your level…**_

"_**Who said I had hidden myself within just 'her' spirit?"**_

_Though it was faint, Sonia could feel the approaching darkness. _

"_**This plane of existence called 'Creation' is completely foreign to us. We the Seraphim have no physical form in this universe. In these barely spiritual forms we are forced to either hibernate, or take refuge inside a living being capable of containing our existence."**_

_Though barely there, Sonia could begin to feel the ground beneath her feet quiver. _

"_**The Creator, my lord and master, had given me the Tree of Life as my vessel. In exchange for living on within its roots, I was to sustain its life-force. Additionally this tree is but one of three. And all of them are connected. When one falls, the others will eventually follow."**_

_A loud crash had broken off Shahaer's monologue and Sonia could feel more than hear the approaching shadows._

"_**Looks like I'm running out of time. In order to escape the Abyss which hunted me I had stored myself within the respective spirits of young Violet and her partner. But as I feared this arrangement cannot last. It won't be long before the Tree of Knowledge loses what little life it has left, and it won't be long before my powers eventually kill the two I reside in. You've already seen it have you not? Your friend is weakening, and so is her contractor. If I am not restored to the Tree of Knowledge before it falls my existence will continue to corrode both of them from the inside."**_

_She didn't catch the rest of what Shahaer said for the darkness sprung at both of them like a pack of starved wolves; encompassing the two of them in their wake. _

_The magical circuit on her arm burned in frenzy. The magic her master had bestowed upon her, Magia Erebea, was reacting to the shadows around them. She couldn't stop the savage thoughts running through her head. The evil around her was seeping into her strained sub-consciousness. It was looking for that part of her weak to its advances._

_**Power is a parasite…it latches onto its victim, be they willing or not. It feeds on that person's strength with sickly sweet words and the hidden promise of inevitable damnation. **_

_**Seraphim are parasites…I never wanted this. I had no choice. It was born unto me, this detestable power of mine.**_

_In a futile attempt to block the voice echoing in her mind she clasped both hands over her ears._

_**I'll be damned if I succumb to these self-piteous thoughts of a me with a broken past and a broken future!**_

_Even as she shouted the declaration aloud, she knew she was in a bind. She had to figure out a way to break the link between her and the shadows surrounding her, as they threatened to overtake her consequences. _

_**Ahhh Dammit! Think Sonia think!**_

_In her desperation a white hot pain ran up her left arm. The sheer amount of power surging through the circuit was swelling to intensely painful levels. _

_**Shit as if things couldn't get any worse! Damn you Seraph, bringing your shit where it's not wanted!**_

_She heard a faint chuckle from the Seraph in question. Even if it wasn't her old friend just the sound of his voice in merriment, abated her anger if only the tiniest bit. _

"_**I did not come into your consciousness lightly, child. One of the main reasons why I chose to make contact with you is because of your affiliation with the arcane arts. Instead of succumbing to your emotions, why not look to your master's teachings, for therein lies the answer to your conundrum." **_

_The voice faded out and she knew that what was left of Shahaer's consciousness was gone. Slippery bastard of a Seraph…_

_But he was right. As Evangeline once said, the Erebea obtains its power from the darkness integral in everything. But could she utilize its power in this situation without running the risk of being swallowed whole by its madness?_

_She let out a generous amount of air she didn't realize she was holding in and raised her arm to the heavens she could no longer see within the pitch black chasm the shadows had trapped her in._

_**As Nate would say nothing ventured, nothing gained.**_

* * *

_SLAP!_

On reflex she jolted and blinked back the tears brought forth by the stinging sensation of a hand repeatedly assaulting the side of her face.

"I think she's awake now…"

Stark's uncertain voice passed through her ringing ears from some obscure side of the room. As her thoughts became more concise two things in particular came to her attention.

Firstly, she was laying on something only slightly softer than the hardwood floor she remembered sleeping on.

Secondly, her cheek hurt like _hell_.

"If you've _finally _decided to wake up then can you please do me the favor of _getting off my lap. _Or perhaps you want me to slap you again."

On instinct,she sprang into action to avoid the incoming clawed hand soaring her way. Rolling out of the danger she brought her small form into a crouch before the person in front of her.

Or more like, the heavily agitated horsewoman glaring at her with an expression that clearly said she wouldn't have minded landing another blow to the side of her aching face. Inwardly, she flinched at the harshness the rider was emanating before feeling her own irritation boiling to the surface.

"Okay, seriously? Did I look like I was having your typical dream? You didn't have to hit me multiple times you know. Especially since you knew if it didn't work the first time then it wasn't going to work the second or the third or…Jesus rider, how many times did you hit me anyway?! Fuck this hurts!"

Fury shrugged.

"I lost count. Quit your whining Cherub, I'm pretty sure you can handle a little pain. Besides you got lucky by waking up when you did. Any longer and you would've tasted my claws as well."

Sonia groaned as Fury drummed her clawed fingers together in an ominous way, a devilish smirk ever present on her elegant features.

_I wonder if the other horsemen share her morbid sense of humor._

She didn't get to muse on that thought for very long as a tremor literally rippled through her being and through the atmosphere around her. Stark's features darkened significantly as he made to grab some of the talismans he stored in his desk. Fury sprang to her feet, whip in hand. Her once humored expression twisted into a fearsome snarl.

"We've got company."

Forgetting about the ache in her cheek Sonia threw on her Yogasa cloak hanging on the bedpost, noting the vacancy of the structure it held up. Violet must've already made herself scarce. She could feel her faint aura coming from Stark's room on the second floor.

_Even without her powers she's a grown ass woman capable of taking care of herself. No point in worrying. Better to focus on the task at hand._

The auras that hit the long-haired Cherub and the horsewoman as the two rushed outside, took them both by surprise. Following the outpour of the decrepit energies her gaze landed on three foes in particular, staring down at them from the rooftop of the home directly in front of them.

Though their mounts weren't present, they didn't look any different from the riders Sonia had encountered before. However she couldn't shake the feeling these enemies were anything but the run-of-the-mill Black Rider.

"They're not your typical Black Riders are they? The cretins I fought against didn't have an aura as nearly as menacing as these guys."

She spoke aloud to the horsewoman beside her, whom returned her observation with a snort.

"Yet the stink of it remains unmistakably the same."

A diabolical, albeit arrogant laugh, boomed down at them.

"To think that the Cherub would notice before the Rider of the Black Horse. Have the remnants of the Nephilim really fallen so low under the council's leash? Or perhaps you've yet to properly recover from the taste of my blade?"

The cloaks enshrining each of their adversaries dissipated as shadows would upon the arrival of the morning sun. More than ever Sonia could see the armaments that adorned their forms underneath the shadowy veil of their cloaks. The steel was rusted in some places and completely black in others with arcane scripture running down the plating.

_Wait those markings are… circuits? With a design as intricate and distasteful as that they would have to be. And they're arcane type to boot. Still, a circuit of this nature only works on a living being. Don't tell me that armor is actually a living part of their bodies?!"_

The bloodthirsty spike in the horsewoman's aura had drawn her from her thoughts in addition to demanding the undivided attention of the opposing entities above them.

"That's the bastard who got me the last time," Fury hissed through clenched teeth.

Sonia followed her murderous gaze to the rider in the center.

A small part of her inwardly flinched when the rider drew her whip from her waist in a matter of seconds, cracking it against the ground in the process. Bolts of forceful electricity crackled to life upon the leather and the amount of mana the weapon exhumed was equally intense.

The middlemost rider Fury referred to drew a long black blade that had markings identical in both shape and hue to the one from last night. Sonia didn't have to look at the blade to know it was of arcane make. The two riders flanking him followed suit.

"Truthfully I'm surprised you managed to overcome the powers invested into one of my arcane blades. You do well to live up to your title as a Rider of the Apocalypse. However I've got a title as well, and so does this blade in my hands. I am an Abyssal Lord of the Fallen and this blade is Umbra; Sister to the blade that pierced through your flesh not but two nights go. My business is with the Azure Flame, not with the likes of you two, unless you're both to stand in my way."

"Do you even need to ask," Fury retorted.

"I suppose I don't. Be warned horsewoman: whatever miracle that had allowed you to live through our previous encounter will henceforth be of little use to you. Once I know of a mistake, it isn't a mistake any longer."

"Don't insult me, Oh-So-High-And-Mighty-Abyssal-Lord-of-the-Fallen. You're not the only one here with that ability."

The horsewoman shot back at the self-proclaimed lord before turning to regard her partner.

"I'll take the asshole in the middle while you handle the two lackeys on the side. If you get through with them quick enough then you can cover me but I'll finish this guy with my own two hands, got it?"

"You think you can handle it?"

Fury scoffed at the question.

"Don't be stupid Cherub. I am Fury: Rider of the Black Horse and one of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse. You tell me."

Recalling her battle with Death she allowed any doubt to dissipate. She drew her blade from within her cloak and assumed an offensive stance alongside the rider.

"Just try not to slow me down Cherub. Creator forbid you stumble into a deep sleep within the midst of battle, and get yourself killed because I'm not feeling benevolent enough to smack you awake."

Sonia rolled her eyes at the horsewoman's remark, before regarding the her with an aggressive smirk.

"Dully noted. Oh-and my name isn't 'Cherub'. It's Sonia. Sonia Belmond, the Red Witch at your service."

With that the fight began…

_**To be continued…**_

**A/N: **

**Quite nicely confused about what the hell is going on just yet? Stick around it gets worse. That said I do plan on answering most of your questions by the end of this story. **

**Uegh, I had my doubts about leaving things off right here but this monster of a Chappie's quite long enough that and I'm self-conscious about its existance as a whole already. Aside from important plot devices this chap was mainly a prelude to the upcoming shit storm in the chapters ahead. **

**That and I wanted to get in some character development for some of the more important OCs because why the hell not X)**

**You know the drill, if you like what you see or have questions/ criticisms leave me some feedback! Fave, follow or review please and thank you!**

_**Animefreak114 Clocking Out!**_


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